


Interludes

by levizallado



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Chases Dreams, Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, BokuAka Endgame, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Excessive Drinking, Getting Back Together, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Osamu unlocks feelings, Personal Growth, Post-Time Skip, References to Depression, Smoking, Therapy, bokuto makes mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:15:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24588949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levizallado/pseuds/levizallado
Summary: “Yer allowed to miss him, just so ya know. And yer allowed to hate my stupid brother.” He exhales a small cloud of smoke. “I’m sorry you have to look at a more handsome version of his face every day.”Bokuto finds out the hard way that for love to stay alive, you need to do what has to be done even if it isn't easy. Akaashi is gently reminded, by a handsome chef, that he is a star in his own right. Sometimes good things have to fall apart for better things to grow from the wreckage. This is a story of people needing to become whole on their own, before seeing how they fit together.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 141
Kudos: 387





	1. Resolutions

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!
> 
> My OTP is BokuAka but OsaAka is such a beautiful ship too! I feel like the part of my heart that wants to believe in enduring love belongs to BokuAka. But the older I get, the more I appreciate the idea of finding love again -perhaps love that is healthier for us, as we change and grow. 
> 
> This was formerly titled “Palate Cleanser” and then I stumbled upon an urban dictionary definition of the term that didn’t sit well with me so I made the decision to change it. 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.

_June 22, 2019 (1:21 AM)_

“Yer allowed to miss him, just so ya know.”

Bokuto’s eyes snap to the figure of his teammate Miya Atsumu suddenly beside him and leaning on the stainless steel handrail of Shoyo’s balcony. There is a light drizzle that cools the air enough for both boys to be in zipped-up jackets, but not enough rain to keep them from taking a breather outside. Their team is there for a small get-together celebrating the little redhead’s 23rd birthday.

Tsum-Tsum pulls out a box of Japan Tobacco Mild Sevens from his pocket, puts one in his mouth, lights it up and takes a long drag before looking back up at Bokuto. “And yer allowed to hate my stupid twin brother.” He exhales a small cloud of smoke. “I’m sorry ya have to look at a more handsome version of his face at training every day.”

For a few minutes that feel like hours, it's silent except for the muffled music coming from inside, the noise of the streets at 1AM and every puff of Atsumu's cigarette. He takes a few steps away from Bokuto and makes sure to blow the smoke in that direction, every time. Atsumu knows this is a horrible habit -especially for a professional athlete. But every now and then, he lets himself slip to ease some of the stress. “You really should try to quit smoking for real, Tsumu Tsumu.” Bokuto says, with a small smile. All the silver-haired spiker has in his hand is a cold glass of water. 

This wasn’t his usual back when he was a new member of the Black Jackals. He had enjoyed the newfound partying lifestyle a bit too much and got swept up in the free luxuries that came with being one of the most famous players on the team. Every club wanted the beam weapon at their party after a great tournament. Everybody at every club wanted to buy Bokuto Koutarou a drink. And Bokuto had never found it easy to say no.

He’s been clean, for months now. Everyone knows this and the entire team has been extremely supportive of his decision to stay completely sober. Atsumu would never tell him outright how much he admires Bokuto’s steel resolve to quit his one big vice, cold turkey. But he throws him a bone in his own way “Guess we can’t all be good lil boys like yerself, Kou-kun!” he teases while putting his cigarette out. 

Atsumu is startled when he notices that Bokuto’s fist clenches slightly. He didn’t expect a hostile reaction to his little jab. “I’m sorry...I meant that as a compliment, really-” he stammers. 

Bokuto relaxes and raises one hand up to apologise and reassure his teammate that no harm was done. “Sorry. It’s nothing, I know you meant well.” The air is still somewhat tense until Bokuto mumbles “‘Kaashi hated how much I used to drink.” 

* * *

_January 1, 2019 (4:07 AM)_

“‘Ka-aaashhh” Bokuto calls out as he stumbles into their two-bedroom apartment. The lights are off and he's leaning on the wall at the entrance. He can’t remember which slippers are his. He can’t even remember how to take his shoes off, right now. The last few shots of tequila from the New Year's Eve event the team had gone to, are still sloshing around in his stomach. 

He fumbles for the lights when Akaashi walks up to him. He is half-asleep and struggling to keep his eyes open, but Akaashi’s carrying the usual thermos of water and pillbox of painkillers that he prepares for Bokuto after these nights out. 

Without saying anything, he bends down and helps Bokuto with his shoes. The usually-meticulous editor ignores Bokuto's rumpled clothes and undone buttons. He ignores the lipstick marks on Bokuto’s shirt collar and tie. He hasn’t put his glasses on, after all, so he could claim he simply hadn’t seen them.

Those things would be gone as soon as they tossed Bokuto’s New Year’s outfit into the laundry. It would be like the few other times: traces of small, harmless flirtations they’d rather not acknowledge, gone with a simple wash cycle. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go to the party with you, Kou. I hope you enjoyed.” he whispers. 

It’s so gentle and heartbreakingly sincere that Bokuto is sobered up by a wave of guilt and remorse.

He crumbles and falls to his knees beside Akaashi, who continues to put the shoes away. Bokuto buries his face into Akaashi's shoulder and sobs like a child.

All Akaashi does is wrap his arms around him and make soothing sounds as Bokuto struggles to say “I’m sorry, Keiji” over and over. 

* * *

_March 13, 2019 (2:38 PM)_

It’s a slow day at the office. Akaashi has all his deliverables wrapped up and he can breathe for a bit. Mentally, he gives himself a pat on the back as he leans back into his chair. 

He takes in the noise of ringing phones, panicked conversations and a chorus of clacking keyboards surrounding him. In truth, it’s still a chaotic day for everyone else but when you're working like a mad-man and regularly putting in extreme overtime to distract yourself from a heart-crushing breakup, it pays off every now and then. He’s usually all caught up by Wednesday afternoon until someone rushes another new deadline at him on Thursday.

He never complains. He'd rather think about grammatical errors, inconsistent storylines and underdeveloped characters than process his own feelings. Really. He wishes he had a new stack of paperwork to go through, already. 

He’s mindlessly scrolling through his social media newsfeed when an ad catches his eye: Onigiri Miya is finally opening a new branch, and only a few streets away from his office. Akaashi feels his stomach grumble at the thought.

He remembers how he used to get those delicious rice balls at every MSBY game he attended. Since he and Bokuto decided to take some time apart and sort things out (Bo moved back to the Jackals lodging) he had of course stopped watching games as well. He tried to continue watching a few, on television, but it felt masochistic to keep doing so for long.

Besides, he had stories to edit. 

He clicks the ad and sends the Onigiri Miya account a direct message “When is the opening?” and is almost immediately answered with a generic reply

> Hello! Thank you for sending us a message! Our Tokyo branch will be having its grand opening sometime this month. We haven’t set a final date yet but please stay tuned to our social media accounts for more info!

Akaashi is about to close his app and put his phone down when another message comes in 

> Come by later if ya wanna help us do a taste test. We’ll be here til 6 -Osamu (I think ya called me Myaa-sam)

Akaashi’s stomach suddenly feels funny and he isn’t sure it’s just about the onigiri.


	2. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all a bit of a blur as he says it: the now-unfamiliar use of his former partner's last name, disclosing that they were “no longer (living) together”, acknowledging that they were no longer in touch. Was this the first time he had said all those things out loud in one go? His head is spinning. He takes another bite of onigiri to keep the last one down. 
> 
> Both Akaashi and Bokuto face the fact that some things aren't better left unsaid -even if they can only say them out loud to people who are practically strangers, for the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter, even if I think it probably still reads as a bit sad. I wanted to tackle some important things for both Bokuto and Akaashi with regards to coping mechanisms, drawing from some personal experiences. I hope I've done the idea some justice! I'm a bit frustrated (with myself??) because I still haven't gotten to any fluff and it's already chapter 2 but I'll try to make up for it in 3 and 4! Thanks for taking the time to read this! 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.  
> 

_February_ _4, 2019_ ( _12:56 AM)_

_Therapy is good.  
_

_Therapy is important._

_Therapy is normal._

This is the mantra Bokuto repeats to himself over and over again as he sits in a small waiting room. _This is me, going to the gym,_ **_for my brain._ ** That’s the analogy Shoyo had used when he suggested a few therapy sessions to him, and it made a lot of sense. His son had become so wise. _He was overwhelmed with pride, to be honest._

In his mind, he can still hear Shoyo's excited, encouraging voice talking about the new self-help books he was reading which highly recommended therapy.

_If we go to physical therapists, do cardio and lift weights to condition our bodies, why can’t we see professionals and build habits to condition our minds, Bokuto-san?_

He fidgets a bit, knowing that any time now he’ll be called over for his 1 o’ clock appointment. The small potted plant on the receptionist’s desk is suddenly all he can focus on, to calm himself down. There is only one other patient waiting in line, beside him - a middle-aged mother with her 5-year old child, silent but restless on her lap.

“Bokuto-san?” the receptionist (Eri, on her name tag) chirps. “Dr. Yamamoto will see you in room 2, now. That’s the second door on your right down the hall.” 

Bokuto quickly walks down the narrow hall to the doorway and takes a deep breath before turning the cold, stainless steel knob. He knows he has to do this. His hands and feet feel as heavy as lead but he knows he has to take this step. 

A month ago, he realized for sure that he had hit his own personal rock-bottom. Despite how happy and successful pro-volleyball superstar Bokuto Koutarou looked in the public eye, he felt like he was lost and floating in nothingness. He was miserable, almost all the time. The only escape from this unhappiness was when he was playing on the court. Volleyball had always been a source of joy for him, but never had the contrast between his emotions on-court and off it felt so stark.

It rattled him because he kept thinking he had nothing to be sad about: his career was going well, he was living with his amazing boyfriend, everything seemed great! Why was he so ungrateful and sad, he wondered.

The cherry on top was stumbling home to Akaashi - _the love of his life and the person who had supported him since he was nobody but a foolish teenager and who made him so much of who he was today_ , drunk and stupid. It was painful, realizing that he was giving Akaashi so much less than he deserved from a partner. It had to stop.

He summons all his resolve, and opens the solid wood door slowly.

“Hello, Koutarou-san, please take a seat.” Dr. Yamamoto greets him with a soft and calming voice. She is a pleasant-looking woman who immediately reminds Bokuto of Keiji’s mother. There is a warm feeling in his chest because he had always liked Akaashi okaa-san, and vice versa.

Dr. Yamamoto is dressed in a simple but professional-looking suit. Her clipboard in hand plays into all the therapist stereotypes Bo has in his head. The couch he plops onto, is another. 

“So, Koutarou-san, where shall we begin?” 

Bokuto introduces himself as if he isn’t all over the Sports pages of the news on a regular basis. He tells her he’s been playing professionally for about 2 or 3 years and has been in love with the sport since he was a child. They dive straight into the pressures of being a professional athlete, despite how much he genuinely loves volleyball: the constant fear of injuries, of becoming a has-been, of losing it all, of the tabloids that love him one day and hate him the next. He talks about how, even on days that they love him, they show that love by hounding him constantly. 

Dr. Yamamoto nods carefully, asks small questions every now and then but she mostly just lets Bokuto talk. He feels like a giant tangled mess in his head is slowly starting to unravel. 

“And I’m gay, too.” he drops, like a rapper’s mic at the end of a particularly hard hitting verse. He braces himself for the heavy "thud" 

But Dr. Yamamoto doesn’t flinch, she barely even blinks. She hums, and writes that down on her clipboard. 

“They’re always itching to get proof of that...the papers, the paps. It’s like a secret everyone sort of knows but pretends not to know just so it can stay scandalous. They were always trying to get photos of us...me and...Keiji…they even...they hurt him, once” His voice trails off at Akaashi’s name. He stifles a small sob.

This time, Dr. Yamamoto looks up and hands him a box of tissues. She smiles at him when he takes the whole container and puts it on his lap. “Don’t worry” she says “Confidentiality agreement. Plus, my wife and I have never been fond of those tabloids trying to out you. She’s honestly a bit of a Jackals fan, herself.” 

The rest of the session goes smoothly. Bokuto talks about using alcohol and partying to cope, and possibly to distract the media, as well, now that he thinks about it. He tells her that whenever he had tried to refuse people’s offers -whether it be vodka or a pretty girl’s kiss, he heard whispers of “I guess the rumors are true, he’s tied down by some secret boyfriend”

So he had given in time and time again, until the lines between Bokuto-protecting-his-relationship and Bokuto-being-Bokuto had blurred to a point that he honestly couldn’t stand himself -whichever “self” he really was. 

“How has your partner dealt with that?”

Bokuto blows his nose for the fifth time and lets out a painful chuckle. “He was always perfect. Always understanding. Always cooking breakfast to cure my hangover the next day no matter how dumb I was the night before. It made me hate myself even more.”

His hands dig into the leather couch. “I had to...I told him I had to stop hurting him like that...had to fix myself. He’s been nothing but amazing since we met. I’ve depended on him since I was 16? 17? He shouldn’t still be...cleaning up after this mess that I am… I moved out last month. I’ve been alcohol-free since. I’m...here, now. I...just want to try everything that might help.”

Dr. Yamamoto smiles at him again -ah, she really does look like Akaashi okaa-san; and mumbles a sweet “I’m sure he would be proud of you for these steps you are taking, Koutarou-san.” and for the first time in a month, or maybe in many months, Bokuto feels proud of himself too. 

* * *

_March 13, 2019 (5:24 PM)_

As soon as Akaashi steps into the unfinished Onigiri Miya store, he hears a loud “Oy!” from behind the counter. It’s Osamu Miya himself: uniform sleeves rolled up, cap on, a plate of onigiri in each hand. The shop is compact: ideal for take-out but with three tables scattered inside just in case people want to stay for a bit. It's a simple, clean design of mostly wood interiors complemented by neutral colors. It feels warm and cozy, despite the mess it's still in.

Two employees are seated at one table, and look to be in the middle of evaluating some rice balls. Osamu nods in that direction, signalling for Akaashi to join them. “We’re figurin' out which flavors to debut at our openin'.” he explains. 

Akaashi’s face lights up at the prospect of getting to try new items, and his stomach makes a sound of delight as well. Osamu laughs, as he places the onigiri on the table. “I was goin' to say I hope yer hungry but I guess I got my answer.” Akaashi can feel his cheeks going red. He takes a seat and pretends not to be embarrassed. “Well I’ve been looking forward to this Tokyo branch for a while now” he mumbles in a matter-of-fact way.

Osamu lets out another laugh “I figured you’d bring Bokkun” he says “He always grabs a buncha rice balls at the games. Or will ya be takin’ some home?”

Akaashi almost chokes on the salmon onigiri he picked up and shoved into his mouth as soon as he sat down. He coughs and one of the staff (Nana -again, thank goodness for name tags) hands him a glass of water.

Despite it being sort of a secret to the general public, their friends -including all the members on the teams they had both played with, always knew the two were dating and living together. _Ah_ , Akaashi thinks, _this is one of the complications of ending a long-term relationship...having to let everyone else know._

He realizes he hadn’t even told their closest friends yet. Perhaps Bokuto had. He wasn’t sure. In hindsight, trying to keep their relationship low-key also made it a bit more difficult to tell when the two had broken up, as opposed to couples who were always joined at the hip or posting about their love on social media whose sudden lack of PDA made it very obvious when they parted ways. Add the fact that Akaashi and Bokuto were both so good at keeping up appearances, in their own ways: Bokuto remained the ever cheerful player-slash-mascot of the Black Jackals while Akaashi was just as steady (if not steadier) at work. He was even up for another promotion, so nobody could tell the two had been going through a world-shattering breakup, behind closed doors. 

“Kou.. ** _Bokuto-san_** and I are no longer living together. He moved into the Jackals lodging with Tsum-Tsum san and the rest about two months ago. We haven’t kept in touch.”

Akaashi hopes that’s enough for Osamu to understand his meaning. It’s all a bit of a blur as he says it: the now-unfamiliar use of his former partner's last name, disclosing that they were “no longer (living) together”, acknowledging that they were no longer in touch. Was this the first time he had said all those things out loud, in one go? His head is spinning. He takes another bite of onigiri to keep the last one down. 

The motion of Osamu plopping down onto the chair right across him, grounds him again “Oh. I see. I...haven’t gotten to talk to Tsumu either recently because of this here store opening and all. Had no idea Bo was back at their dorm.” He reaches across the table and hands Akaashi another rice ball “This one’s my favorite. It’s spicy and Tsumu hates it. Well...maybe that’s kinda part of why it’s my favorite, come to think of it.” Akaashi laughs. He’s heard of the...unusual dynamic between the brothers but knows that underneath all that tension, there’s only love.

Osamu pushes a small bowl of pickled ginger towards him as well. Nana and the other staff (a small boy named Yui) take some, in between bites. “They’re so we can taste the different flavors better” Nana interjects. 

At about 6:30, the rest of the staff starts closing up the store. They’d decided on the three flavors to feature at the opening: the salmon which was a classic favorite, pickled plum, and Osamu’s favorite spicy rice ball which was officially the _fire dragon onigiri_ but which he loved to call the “Tsumu destroyer.”

Akaashi is taking his wallet out to pay for the five origiri he had consumed, when Osamu puts a hand up. “You were helpin’ us. I asked for a favor.” Akaashi is slightly uncomfortable, but he can’t argue with that logic. He gives Osamu a quick bow and tells him he’ll be staying tuned for the announcement of the opening. 

“Have a business card on ya?” Osamu asks, without skipping a beat. He sees Akaashi stunned and explains “I’ll text ya once we fix a date. You’ll be the first t’know and all.” So instead of money, Akaashi fishes out one of his business cards and hands it to Osamu respectfully before leaving the store. He is walking for barely five minutes when he gets a message on his phone.

> Pleasure servin’ you today -Myaa sam 

Akaashi saves the contact to his phone as “Osamu Miya (Onigiri Miya)” and puts his phone away. He doesn’t feel the need to reply, but it feels strangely refreshing to know that the beginnings of a conversation are there, waiting to be fished out of his pocket when he’s ready. 

* * *

On the other side of the city, Atsumu Miya face plants onto his bed after a long day of training when his phone rings. “Stupid Twin” is calling, apparently. Atsumu sounds slightly annoyed (as always) when he answers his phone with a grunt but he does answer (again: as always) because even if he’d never admit it, he misses his twin and enjoys their daily chats. 

“Ya didn’t tell me 'bout 'em, on purpose huh” Osamu starts. 

Atsumu knows right away what it’s about. Blame that somewhat-crazy twin connection. He knew Osamu would find out eventually, but he honestly didn’t think it would be so soon. He feigns ignorance anyway. “What’re ya shootin’ yer mouth off about Samu” he hisses.

“So they called it quits, huh...wouldn’t have thought they'd ever, yknow” Osamu mutters, seeing through his twin’s facade.

There’s silence, and then a loud sigh “Don’t get any ideas, Samu. I know you’ve had a stupid little crush on him since that Sendai match but ya don’t wanna get tangled up in...all that. It’s fresh. Don’t be an idiot...I know it’s hard for ya not to be, on account of it’s your true self, but try for once.”

It’s Osamu’s turn to play dumb, and he changes the subject by asking Atsumu how many times he messed up at practice today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!


	3. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakups are supposed to be tragic, dramatic, angry things. Breakups are supposed to be full of plates thrown across the room, clothes hurled into suitcases, cursing, shouting. These are the breakups in all the stories Akaashi finds himself checking for grammar and coherence, at work. These are the breakups he knows in so many cliche words and sentences repeated over and over. There are no stories about breakups like theirs: breakups that are soft, quiet, sad in their own unique way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Despite the angst-filled chapter summary, I promise I have finally included some fluff in this chapter HOORAY! I think I did get a bit carried away while writing this, though, and I've now had to adjust my original 4 chapters to 6. I'm not one for very long chapters so I figured I'd just put more! I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.

Breakups are supposed to be tragic, dramatic, angry things. Breakups are supposed to be full of plates thrown across the room, clothes hurled into suitcases, cursing, shouting. These are the breakups in all the stories Akaashi finds himself checking for grammar and coherence, at work. These are the breakups he knows in so many cliche words and sentences repeated over and over. 

There are no stories about breakups like theirs: breakups that are soft, quiet, sad in their own unique way. Or maybe there are, but he’s convinced there aren’t.

He’s convinced there will never be anything quite like that quiet breakfast on New Year’s day, the way he and Koutarou carefully folded the latter’s belongings into moving boxes, and the whispers of “one last” before every kiss and every touch they let themselves give in to.

It had only taken a few calls to have living arrangements settled. It had only taken a few hours to pack up one half of a life together, into the back of the car trunk. 

He thinks there ought to be a villain, someone he could direct his anger towards, someone he could hate. But Akaashi could never bring himself to be angry at Bokuto -not when they were high school teenagers, not when they had started dating in college, not when they had moved in together after graduation, and not now as he sat in the car while his ex boyfriend unloaded his belongings outside of the Black Jackals’ housing.

This was the sort of story line Akaashi loved and hated the most, coming to bite him in the ass. This was a story where all he could be frustrated with were changing circumstances...maybe the paparazzi, if he thought hard enough about it. Maybe society, which had tried so hard to claw their way into the cozy home they had built together. Or maybe the reality of how impossible it was bound to be to hold onto a star he had managed to craft an orbit around at 16.

Maybe this was doomed from the start, and he couldn’t be angry at anyone but himself for not spotting this sad trope a mile away. 

_How dare this excruciating pain be so beautiful_ , he thinks as the sunset creeps up in front of the windshield. As if on cue, the last box is unloaded and he steals a glance in the rear-view mirror as Bokuto slowly closes the hood. He knows that there are no more words to say: they had exhausted them before coming to the only rational decision. But it’s painful, for his last look into those golden eyes to be this: an open-ended farewell, lopsided smiles and an abundance of unspoken words bathed in pink and purple.

They had both agreed that their relationship had become detrimental to their individual growth, but what was all this stupidly romantic nostalgia for, at the very end?

 _How dare this be so beautiful, how dare you make it so hard._ Akaashi is cursing the Universe now: whatever gods had painted today’s sunset to be especially lovely, whatever had fooled him into thinking his ridiculous love story would survive the twists.

He laughs to himself bitterly, as he turns the key to drive off. How silly of him to call it his story, when he had probably been just a chapter in its exposition.

* * *

_April 3, 2019 (7:57 PM)_

Osamu’s pretty pleased with himself. Besides the fact that his Tokyo branch opened a few days ago, to rave reviews, he is somehow staying at a certain Akaashi Keiji’s apartment for the week and a half that he’s in Tokyo to watch over the shop. Not only is it great for saving a little cash, since he isn’t paying for a hotel or airbnb, it’s great for...personal reasons.

Granted, he’s been sleeping in the spare room and isn’t even remotely making any progress romantically but he smiles to himself as he thinks about how much fun he’s having just getting to know the former owl setter a bit more. He is fully convinced it was worth the ear-full he had to endure from Tsumu, as soon as he let him know where in Tokyo he’d be staying. 

> _“I told ya not t’get mixed up in all this! Yer really takin’ advantage of that damn onigiri store, ya stupid Samu!” the blonde had screamed over the phone. Shrugging his shoulders, Osamu had merely replied “Free lodging’s free lodging. And a 20 minute walk away from the shop? It’s just good business sense.”_
> 
> _He could tell Atsumu was frustrated out of his mind, but he hadn’t really pinpointed why._
> 
> _"Yer gonna get hurt, idiot.” came the sudden answer. “Ya get in the middle of two people with weird, unfinished business...two people who have all that crazy annoying soulmate BS in their past, and yer just...askin’ for it.”_
> 
> _He knew it wasn’t the best time to poke the bear, but he couldn’t resist. He was just so tired of Atsumu trying to convince him to stay away from Akaashi. “Ah, speaking of! How’s Shoyo by the way, Tsumu?” and suddenly there was nothing but a dial tone from the other end of the phone. He chuckled, knowing he’d pay for that during their next phone call._

Akaashi arrives a little past 8, which is earlier than usual but Osamu is almost ready with dinner -which has been his way of thanking Akaashi for letting him crash at his apartment. Tonight, it’s homemade miso ramen.

“Howdy” Osamu says while reaching into the overhead cupboard for the bowls. Osamu doesn’t miss Akaashi’s childlike smile as he enters the apartment and gets a whiff of it. _People who appreciate good food are the best kind of people_ , he thinks to himself. What he does miss is the way Akaashi’s eyes trail down to the strip of skin revealed as his shirt riles up a bit.

Who could blame him? Despite not going pro like his brother, there was no way he would let Atsumu become the twin in better shape that easily. He knew he would never hear the end of it from his annoying blonde brother if he let himself go, and that sibling rivalry fueled a very disciplined workout routine. Cardio before opening the store and HIIT with weights after his shift, keeps him ridiculously trim for someone who worked in food.

Akaashi, who stopped playing volleyball after high school as well, is no slacker either. Osamu has gotten a peek of a bunch of workout equipment in his bedroom, besides the treadmill and yoga mat in the living room. Since Akaashi and Bokuto probably shared a room, he guessed the spare room was actually a home gym when there wasn’t a guest over. Osamu likes Akaashi’s broad shoulders and toned limbs. He’s not what one would call “buff” but more lean, like a professional swimmer, or that male yoga instructor who’d made Osamu flush at the last group class he attended. Just his type, really. _Can’t hide a physique like that under those librarian-esque clothes but nice try, Akaashi-kun._

“Thank you for the food” Akaashi mutters, as he hangs up his tan overcoat and sits on a stool facing the kitchen counter. Osamu walks up behind him and lets him arm lightly graze Akaashi’s shoulder as he sets the bowl down “Least I can do! It’s been real convenient, staying here while Nana and the rest get the hang of runnin’ the store.” Akaashi nods politely. “I’ve seen very good posts about it online. Congratulations.”

There is a small chuckle, and then comfortable silence as the two enjoy their food. Osamu smiles to himself, appreciating the quiet ease he felt around Akaashi. Growing up with Atsumu’s constant noise, being in the chaos of a busy restaurant daily and travelling to bustling cities for business, made Osamu even fonder of people who he could be pleasantly still, with. He glances over at Akaashi and notices again: that childlike joy, while savoring the food he made. He feels his heart swell. _Ah, those eyes are...a damn pretty shade of blue green. A pretty_ _troublesome shade of blue green,_ he decides.

Almost immediately, Akaashi notices he’s being watched and knocks his stack of work notebooks over, in his panic. They both react and try to grab the journals and loose sheets, to no avail. Osamu is quickly on the floor, picking them up and handing them to Akaashi to sort out. He can't help but peek at some of the scribbles.

Every now and then over the past few days, he had poked and pried a bit into the young editor’s work life. Akaashi didn’t share much unless you asked him, but once he got to talking, those eyes lit up.

“New story this week?” Osamu asks as he arranges the paper on the counter. Akaashi quickly regains his composure and tells him about the new manga pitch he had been asked to look over, this morning. He goes into detail about what he likes and doesn’t like about the plot, at some point he talks about how he would have handled certain characters if it had been up to him and then catches himself and sheepishly says “-but of course, that’s still up to the mangaka...it’s their story, and I try to let them tell it as truthfully as they wish to...I don’t think it’s my job to rewrite things completely like that.”

 _Akaashi does seem like the sort of person who tries his best to support others, while making sure not to be overbearing_ , Osamu thought. _Makes sense...only way someone coulda dealt with high school Bokuto the way he did, based on stories he's heard._

“Yer take on it sounds pretty interesting to me, though.” Osamu admitted. He wasn’t lying just to get on Akaashi's good side (even if he definitely wanted to get on his good side). In the few but substantial conversations they had, it was easy for him to see that Akaashi’s ideas were beautiful: relatable without being predictable, and incredibly insightful. “I’m in no place to say anythin’ -what do I know about writin’ and whatnot, and it’s great that ya respect the creators so much...but you’ve got some good ideas in that noggin too, huh? Ya must, don’t overthinkers always have a buncha ideas?”

He laughs and hopes it defuses any tension caused by such a bold statement. And then he swiftly decides that since he’s leaving in less than two days and Akaashi looks so annoyingly pretty with those blue-green eyes and red cheeks, he doesn’t really care about defusing tension anymore.

“I’m not just sayin’ this to get in yer pants or anythin’,” he hopes to god he’s emphasized the _“just”_ enough “but if you ever wrote somethin’, I’d read it.” Akaashi looks away and fidgets with his hands, but Osamu has decided to commit to this attempt. He leans in and gently cups Akaashi's now very warm cheek. “Hey Akaashi…” he whispers “You can get up and walk away if I’m oversteppin’ here. Just so you know...”

* * *

This is true. Akaashi can get up and walk away. He doesn’t have to go along with anything merely happening to him, doesn’t have to passively go about life like a shadow chasing light. He can make choices, decisions.

Osamu smells like ramen broth, with the tiniest hint of sweat still mixed with a fresh change of clothes. He smells like the wooden planks of the small, bustling onigiri shop that brought him and so many others, joy in the form of delicious rice balls. He smells like home cooked meals in an otherwise sterile city apartment that had been empty for three months -longer than three months, if he were being completely honest with himself.

Akaashi puts his hand on Osamu’s which is still on his cheek, and turns towards him without hesitation. Osamu tastes like ramen, with a lingering bit of mint toothpaste. 

* * *

Osamu can’t help but think again about how Akaashi’s eyes are a very troublesome shade of blue-green, indeed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!


	4. Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I still think yer bound to get hurt, Samu. Half a year don’t erase the stupid tie between ‘em and everyone can see that.” he says, after gulping down his drink. Osamu shrugs which, again, annoys the heck out of Atsumu. “I’m bein’ careful. It ain’t like we’re in love or anythin’ I just like his company...” Atsumu’s eyes squint “His company…” Osamu lets out a hearty laugh. “And geez Tsumu c’mon have you seen Keiji? Literally tall dark and handsome. Seriously, what was Bokkun on when he broke up with him? Took too many volleyballs to the head or somethin’?” _He doesn’t know_ , Atsumu realizes. “Look. I’m sorry ‘bout the Shoyo jab. But if yer stickin’ yer nose in this coz yer projecting yourself onto my situation: Bokkun ain’t Kageyama” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been getting more and more hyped to write faster, the longer I let the plot I have planned out, simmer. I've also been discovering a lot of well-written works with beautiful plot twists and turns that motivate me to get to my reveals instead of staying stuck. Sometimes I think I'm a bit too jumpy with the events but sometimes I also think I'm pacing a bit slowly, considering the ways I want this story to go! I hope the messages I'm trying to put into it still get across effectively though. Thank you for the comments/kudos/bookmarks. I truly appreciate each and every one, even if this work is only half-way done (maybe less tbh haha oops might have to adjust the number of chapters again hehehe) 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.

_July 1, 2019 (5:22 PM)_

It’s a rainy evening when Atsumu Miya walks into his brother’s Tokyo onigiri store. There’s a small queue for takeout and a couple enjoying their food at one of the tables. “Ah, Atsumu-san! Hello!” Nana greets him, cheerfully from behind the counter. Yui sneaks off to the kitchen. He’d never been comfortable around his boss’ more...aggressive twin. “Osamu-san went out to run an errand about 20 minutes ago, he should be back shortly to see you.”

Nana pulls out a small platter of ready-made onigiri and sets it on the table nearby “He asked us to prepare this for you in case he was late.” Atsumu smiles back at her and nods while saying thank you.

His brother was annoying and stupid but he definitely hired good people and managed his staff well. Since the opening, Samu had come to the Tokyo store once a month just to make sure things were running smoothly and of course to settle payments and whatnot. Sometimes, Atsumu dropped by even on days that Samu wasn’t there, and everything was a well-oiled machine. _Fine, I guess he did take those business courses pretty seriously,_ Atsumu grumbles to himself. He promises himself that he’ll never tell Osamu that to his face and he hopes their twin telepathy hasn’t caught on to that particular thought just yet. He panics for a moment and wonders if Nana told Osamu about all the times he visited the store while Samu was back in Hyogo.

Atsumu shakes off that last thought and places his clear umbrella in the stand at the door. He takes his black bomber jacket and MSBY cap off while making his way to the table Nana set up for him. Running his hands through his slightly damp hair, he slumps into his seat. _Now...where to begin_ , he mutters. A part of him is contemplating which onigiri to try first, but another part of him is still figuring out how to start a painfully awkward conversation with his brother, once he arrives.

It’s not like him to get involved or reach out, for things that didn’t concern him directly. _See, there are upsides to being selfish_ , he tells himself. He can’t believe he’s sticking his nose in this -willingly! Of his own volition! He had more important things to think about! His volleyball career, beating dumbass Kageyama, that new sponsorship deal, beating Kageyama at other things -

Before he can get lost in his thoughts any further, he hears the chair across him being pulled out. Osamu greets him with a hearty “Oy” as he shakes off his rain-drenched Onigiri Miya cap and folds his raincoat back into a small pouch. “One of those... _I’m not tellin’ you which_...is the Tsumu destroyer mach 2. I’ll be really impressed if you manage to avoid it while finishin' the rest, which are your favorites.” His stupid twin grins.

 _Okay, screw it. I’m not going to go easy on him at all,_ Atsumu decides.

Atsumu picks up one of the onigiri and bites into it without hesitation. “Salmon.” he announces, trying to maintain a deadpan expression. He hates how hard it is to pretend his brother’s cooking isn’t the best part of this long and tiring day. He can feel his lips slowly curving into a satisfied grin but he manages to force himself to scowl as soon as he hears Osamu chuckle.

“Stayin’ at Kaashi’s again, Samu?” Atsumu isn’t beating around the bush, today. Osamu pulls out a bottle of water and smiles at his twin. “Yup. I gotta leave you in about an hour. Cookin’ dinner. I’d invite you over but it ain’t my place.” Atsumu glares and hates how nonchalant Osamu is being about this.

“Bokkun knows, ya know.” He tries not to let his voice rile up while saying this, and it comes out as a low growl. “I didn’t tell ‘im, musta been someone from their highschool team.”

Osamu sighs exasperatedly and then replies with an exaggerated drawl “Ah. Should I be scared or something? Are there Fukurodani snipers out to get me now?” The golden-haired Miya’s face contorts angrily at how flippant his brother is acting. “It’s unusual for you to care about somethin’ that ain’t yer business, Tsumu.” Osamu continues, maintaining his calm tone. “Far as I know, Bokkun chose to pack up and leave Keiji didn’t he? Half a year ago. Ya don’t leave someone that pretty and think there ain’t a buncha people waitin’ in the wings for their chance, right.”

Atsumu has nothing to say, back. He’s also still reeling from the casual use of Akaashi’s given name.

“I never made a move on ‘im while they were together. Wanted to, but always respected Bokkun too much to even consider it.” 

Atsumu bites into another onigiri and makes a face. He puts it back down on the plate and grabs his glass of water. Osamu starts giggling in his seat.

“I still think yer bound to get hurt, Samu. Half a year don’t erase the stupid tie between ‘em and everyone can see that.” he says, after gulping down his drink.

Osamu shrugs which, again, annoys the heck out of Atsumu. “I’m bein’ careful. It ain’t like we’re in love or anythin’ I just like his company...” Atsumu’s eyes squint “His company…” Osamu lets out a hearty laugh. “And geez Tsumu c’mon have you seen Keiji? Literally tall dark and handsome. Seriously, what was Bokkun on when he broke up with him? Took too many volleyballs to the head or somethin’?”

 _He doesn’t know_ , Atsumu realizes.

“Look. I’m sorry ‘bout the Shoyo jab. But if yer stickin’ yer nose in this coz yer projecting yourself onto my situation: Bokkun ain’t Kageyama” Osamu finishes, with conviction.

The third onigiri is a comforting pickled plum, and Atsumu breathes a sigh of both relief at the welcome flavor, and frustration at his twin.

“Yeah...Bokkun ain’t Kageyama, Samu. Because unlike that dumbass king, the stupid owl’s actually still consciously puttin’ in the work for the relationship, even if they ain’t together.”

* * *

> _  
> July 7, 2019_
> 
> _Hey hey hey, diary!! This week was good. Volleyball practice has been good. Tsum-Tsum’s sets have been really fun to hit. Shoyo and I have come up with a bunch of new secret moves with awesome names!! And even if Omi-omi rolls his eyes, I know he’s saying them in the back of his head too._
> 
> _The team went out after practice last Friday and even if we visited a few clubs, it was easy for me to stick to water and grape juice. It’s getting easier as the months go by._
> 
> _Sometimes, hot people come on to me and I know they’re hot because I’m not blind and my hormones are still working despite what everyone saysss, but I just don’t feel enough for anyone. Dr. Yamamoto says that’s okay and I shouldn’t rush myself. I'm always relieved to hear someone say that, without making fun of me by calling me crazy or telling me I should just get over my ex already. She tells me that everyone has their own ways of healing and if I don’t feel comfortable being intimate with another person just yet, it’ll do more harm than good if I force myself to._
> 
> _I’m glad I continued going to therapy. It’s nice to just let things out, without feeling like I’m being judged and also without feeling like I’m being a burden to any of my friends. I know they’d be willing to listen especially Shoyo my son!!!...but I don’t want to abuse that. Everyone's got their own stuff to deal with yknow?? I also don’t want to taint anyone’s view of me, ~~Keij~~ Akaashi or our past relationship... ~~or future relationships either,~~ since we have a lot of common friends. Therapy has been great. This journaling homework from Dr. Yamamoto has also been great. _
> 
> _Some days, I’m not so great but I can flip to the other days where I had ups and downs and remember that this is just how things are. And I can practice my owl drawings which are getting better too!!!_
> 
> _Diary, I think that next week, I’ll talk to Dr. Yamamoto about how I feel knowing that ~~Ke (damn it)~~ Akaashi is seeing someone new...and that someone being Myaa-sam. It seems dumb and selfish to be angry about it especially since we specifically said not to hold each other back, when we broke up...so I never comment whenever someone asks...not when Konoha let me know, not when Tsum-Tsum brought it up, not even when Shoyo asked if I was okay...but it hurts and oh man I hate it when my pages get smudgy with tears. I gotta find waterproof paper._
> 
> _Yeah I think I’ll bring that up in the next session._
> 
> _Kou_

* * *

_August 8, 2019 (9:45 PM)_

It’s Osamu’s last day in Tokyo for the month and he and Akaashi are curled up on the couch after another great dinner. The television is on. It’s some local news channel, as is their default. Osamu playfully rubs small circles on Akaashi’s soup-filled stomach and teases

“Ara ara, a few months of seeing a chef and there go the abs I suppose.” Akaashi’s nose wrinkles in a childish pout -a face very few have ever gotten to see. “Mean…” he mutters. “I knew you really were just using me for my body.” He knows full well that his little food belly will be gone in a few hours but he plays along with Osamu’s little taunt. “Mm, that and the free room” Osamu chuckles as his hands slowly trail from Akaashi’s stomach up his chest until his fingers gently stroke the smaller man’s jawline. 

Akaashi tilts his face up to meet Osamu’s eyes straight-on and Osamu’s breath catches in his throat. “But we...can burn all the calories anyway” The sentence spills out of him before he can think properly. Suddenly, his hands are all over Akaashi: gripping those broad but lean shoulders, feeling the toned muscles in his arms, begging for Keiji’s long, delicate fingers to dig into his torso. Akaashi shifts a little, so he can lie down comfortably beneath Osamu.

“I guess we aren’t skipping dessert” he smirks, as he puts one hand on the back of Osamu’s neck and pulls him down for a hungry kiss. 

The news anchors are running down this week’s sports highlights. There is a whole segment on the V-league, with special attention on the Division 1 teams who are the favorites for the new tournament opening next month. But the television audio is muffled background noise and all Akaashi can hear is his own quickened breath and a beautiful man whispering his name into his ear. On a small desk not too far away, lies his latest manuscript for the new book he’s been writing, with Osamu’s encouragement.

* * *

_August 8, 2019 (10:30 PM)_

**_"And now, on a related note, we have a special interview with the famous Bokuto Koutarou of the MSBY Black Jackals"_ **

Osamu and Akaashi are half-awake on the couch when the new segment is introduced by the host. They're frozen stiff and unsure about whether to reach out for the remote control on the coffee table, or pretend they're asleep and can't hear anything. They both settle on the latter, and Akaashi nuzzles into Osamu's chest, facing away from the screen but secretly listening intently.

It's a quick human interest piece, where Bokuto opens up about how he's been seeking professional help lately to help him cope with the stress of being a well-known athlete. It's still quite new, for people in his profession to come forward and advocate for mental health, especially in Japan.

The interviewers ooh and aah over how brave he is, to be doing so, especially since he is known for being somewhat invincible and extremely cheerful, on the court.

"Does it worry you that the positive persona people adore you for, might be questioned or watered down now that you're speaking about going to therapy, Bokuto san?" one asks. 

Bokuto thinks for a second and then smiles - _Akaashi can hear the smile in his voice when he replies._

"I think that just makes it even more important for me to be honest about how I take care of myself off the court, so I can be strong and cheerful for my team!"

The other interviewer quickly chimes in "Of course, even a very powerful beam weapon must be recharged, ne, Bokuto san?"

For a few more minutes, they talk about healthy coping mechanisms that he has to constantly train himself to use instead of unhealthy ones. He takes the opportunity to remind anyone -especially kids, who may look up to him, to stay away from bad habits. He mentions how it's for their own good first and foremost, but also very important for the people they love.

At the end of the interview, they air the Black Jackal's latest commercial with a big new skincare line for men. Osamu rolls his eyes at how unnatural and overly-conscious Atsumu still looks in these TV ads. 

Akaashi's chest feels strange: warm, but heavy, relieved and proud but somehow...despondent. He continues to pretend to be asleep, lying completely still in Osamu's arms. He doesn't see Osamu's eyes still glued to the screen, with a very serious expression on his face. His stupid twin's words from their conversation last month are ringing in his head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!


	5. Discontinuations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Bokuto tries to entertain a possible romantic interest, he loses the motivation to keep replying to their messages after a few hours. This happens the second and third time, as well and his friends aren’t surprised that he gives up on dating altogether after a while. “I’ve got enough on my plate” he reckons. And he does -with a tournament coming up, his newfound advocacy gaining traction and booking interviews, and a sudden obsession with a particular publishing group’s weekly manga, Bokuto barely replies to anyone right away. Nobody mentions the other obvious reason that none of Bokuto’s new paramores have any hope, not even Konoha and Washio who come to see him and catch up every now and then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you've noticed, the chapter numbers have changed once again. (-_-;) I promise I did outline this with the chapters, from the beginning, but it's just so easy to get carried away or feel like I haven't done the story or character justice just yet! I think I'm also postponing Akaashi's decision because I'm getting quite attached to both possible outcomes as well. Ah. Talk about fiction mirroring reality. Anyway! Thank you again for any feedback you have given, regarding the story. I appreciate you taking the time to do so. It's been a lot of fun writing this and the fact that these thoughts could have any small meaning to someone else out there, makes me want to do my best. 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.

The first time Bokuto tries to entertain a possible romantic interest, he loses the motivation to keep replying to their messages after a few hours. This happens the second and third time, as well and his friends aren’t surprised that he gives up on dating altogether after a while. “I’ve got enough on my plate” he reckons. He honestly does -with a tournament coming up, his newfound advocacy gaining traction and booking interviews, and a sudden obsession with a particular publishing group’s weekly manga, Bokuto barely replies to anyone right away. Nobody mentions the other obvious reason that none of Bokuto’s new paramores have any hope, not even Konoha and Washio who come to see him and catch up every now and then.

The first time someone -a good friend he had agreed to accompany to a formal event, tries to kiss him, he pulls away and apologises. She too apologises profusely in return and is thoroughly embarrassed about making a move. They both agree she just had a little too much champagne that night. He tells her it’s alright, walks her to her door, and reassures her once again before he heads back to the dorm. That night, all he can think of while lying awake in his room is how Akaashi had said “It’s alright” over and over again, as well, on the night before he left but on so many other occasions too, before that. He said it on the volleyball court back in highschool whenever Bokuto couldn’t get his spikes to break through. He said it whenever Bokuto bawled over careless mistakes in his Mathematics exams, even over video calls while they were in university. He said it when Bokuto first confessed to him and thought he had ruined their friendship forever. He said it when Bokuto couldn’t hang the picture frames properly in their shared apartment. He said it calmly, gently, lovingly, every single time Bokuto had stumbled. Now, all he can think of is the weightless, empty feeling from the day he unloaded the boxes out of Akaashi’s car and watched the love of his life take one last glance in the rear view mirror. It felt like his soul had floated right out of his body and nothing of him was left to will his mouth to open and say _“Wait. I take it back. Don’t leave. Fix it with me.”_

> The last time Bokuto saw Akaashi Keiji, he couldn’t say a single word as the man he loved drove away. He knew he was completely responsible for the way his heart was shattering. He knew Akaashi had no obligation to soothingly tell him things were alright, from here on out. 

* * *

_August 10, 2019 (12:04 PM)_

Kenma walks into Akaashi’s apartment silently and politely. Akaashi offers to take his coat and proceeds to hang it for him. As soon as he is two steps inside, Kenma is quickly distracted by the smell of good food coming from the kitchen. 

“Thanks for coming to help me finish the leftovers, Kenma-kun. Osamu made some apple pie you might like.” 

The smaller boy looks up thoughtfully at his friend since high school and makes a face very much like a cat trying to decide on its next course of action. In a low, monotonous voice he says “Ah. Trying to win your friends over already, is he?” It’s no surprise that Kenma and Kuroo are still a bit hesitant to accept that Akaashi and Bokuto’s breakup, even months after finding out. Along with the entire Fukurodani team from Bokuto’s senior year, they had become very much invested in the relationship. Akaashi simply laughs and tells Kenma that there’s no need to be so suspicious about some good pie. 

The two make their way to the kitchen and Kenma sits at the counter, while Akaashi brings out the pan warming in the oven. Kenma gets a third of the way through his first slice when he stops to ask “So how’s the book coming along, Keiji?” 

Akaashi isn’t surprised that Kenma asks about it, with no prodding. Kenma has always been an extremely caring and supportive friend, despite his seemingly stand offish exterior. He even offered to sponsor the book’s future launches and promised to order a whole box of them, to give out as gifts. 

“Well, there’s been progress.” Akaashi starts. “But I suppose anything is progress, after I’ve put off actually writing a book for so long.” He stares off into the room where his latest manuscript is sitting. It’s set to be a complex story disguised as a children’s book in terms of form and language. Something he hopes to give his nieces and nephews (and children…?) in the future. “I’ve been stuck for about a week or two though. I suddenly don’t know where I want it to go.” Kenma fidgets in his seat for a bit, before asking “Would you like to let me read it?” Akaashi stares at him for a few seconds, before exhaling the breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. “That would probably be for the best. I’ve been hesitant to let anyone read it, but as an editor myself, I should know how valuable a second opinion is,” he laughs. “You’re overly critical of yourself, Keiji. That’s probably why you’re stuck.” Kenma mutters.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess, I haven’t typed it yet” Akaashi says as he hands his Midori notebook to Kenma. It takes the smaller boy about 15 minutes and another two slices of apple pie, to get through Akaashi’s 10-page handwritten draft so far. He looks up at Akaashi and suddenly grabs his face. With his cold palms on Akaashi’s cheeks, he scowls at him. “Keiji...have you let that onigiri man read this?” 

Akaashi is startled by the question, but quickly composes himself and answers “No. You’re the first person to read it.” Kenma applies a bit of pressure on Akaashi’s cheeks “Aah, you’re pretty cruel, Keiji” with a childish pout. When Kenma lets go of his face, he lets out a small, guilty laugh. “He knows, though, if that makes it any less terrible.” Akaashi’s voice is low and serious. “I know what everyone’s been thinking about the two of us, given my...situation, but we’re more self-aware than people think. Osamu knows where we stand.” Kenma lets out another sigh. He can hear the defensive tone in Akaashi's voice. “It’s still cruel, Keiji. Somehow...” 

“You’re right. My indecisiveness is still cruel, no matter what excuses I make” Akaashi says as he collapses onto the couch. From where he sits, Kenma can see the tears welling up at the corners of Akaashi’s eyes. “It’s just been so nice to have some good company, while putting things back together.” 

* * *

_September 1, 2019 (5:03 PM)_

Akaashi answers the door, knowing exactly what would be on the other side. He’s surprised to find just Osamu, without the usual overnight bags he brings during these week-long stays in Tokyo. Before he can ask, Osamu presses a quick, chaste kiss to his lips. Akaashi’s hands fly to Osamu’s hair on instinct, forgetting all about the baggage or lack thereof. He hears the door shut closed behind them, as he pulls Osamu in for a deeper kiss. This is their sixth week-long sleepover. They agreed from the start to keep things casual, but Akaashi can’t deny how certain things are slowly turning into routines, despite the strange intervals of their monthly setup. 

“Keiji” he growls. It takes all the restraint in him, to pull away from Akaashi. He makes sure to avoid looking into those blue eyes until he can say it: “We need to talk.” 

* * *

> The first time Osamu Miya walked into Akaashi Keiji’s apartment months ago, he had a handsome smirk on his face as he thanked his gracious host. Akaashi had been completely calm, with a deadpan expression, which only made Osamu wonder if he was a) really just that serious and hard to crack or b) secretly flustered but amazing at containing his emotions. Both options made him more curious to figure out just what made this unflappable man tick. 
> 
> He had only ever heard two kinds of stories about Akaashi. Back in highschool, there were stories about him as Fukurodani’s no-nonsense setter. He was vice-captain as a second year and eventually captain in his last year. More recently, he was bombarded with rants about him as the bane of Tsumu’s existence (next to Tobio, of course) thanks to Bokkun’s careless remarks.
> 
> Despite being teammates on a professional division 1 team for almost 3 years, the bumbling spiker still said “Akaashi’s tosses were the best!” whenever nostalgic conversations about high school came up -which was pretty often, especially when Hinata joined the team. As much as Osamu chided Atsumu saying Bokkun didn’t mean to insult him and was probably biased given that Akaashi was the love of his life, he grew curious about the former setter.
> 
> _Figures_ , he thought, _things that get on Tsumu’s nerves are always interesting to me._
> 
> The fact that this particular thing that got on Tsumu’s nerves came in an extremely attractive form, as he confirmed at Hinata’s debut match back in 2018, just made things worse (or perhaps better, now)
> 
> Akaashi guided Osamu to the spare bedroom where he’d be staying for the week of Onigiri Miya’s opening, and gave him some time to sort his things out. “I’ll cook dinner, by the way. Please lemme.” Osamu called out, before unpacking his duffel bag. There was a short pause, followed by a sound of approval. It was the arrangement they had agreed upon, after all and Osamu already had the week’s menu planned out. He loved cooking for others and seeing the reactions to his food. 
> 
> Dinner was mostly quiet, not because it was awkward but because Akaashi seemed to be so focused on enjoying his meal. Osamu chuckled a bit when the editor had gotten halfway through the bowl in about 3 minutes and said “Yer like a whole other person when ya get some good grub, huh?” Akaashi paused (but just for a second) and Osamu quickly continued “Not that I know much about ya, ‘sides things I heard from highschool -ages ago. But ya just seem so serious in general. Yer more like a happy kid when ya eat.”
> 
> Akaashi set his bowl down, with a small laugh “I suppose that’s true.” He laughed a little more and admitted: “It’s a bit strange to hear that, from someone outside of my own alma mater. I guess I came off that way to everyone.”
> 
> Sitting up a bit straighter, Osamu laughed as well “Yep! The make-no-mistakes setter and disciplinarian vice captain then captain of the Owls. Pretty much. Reminded me a bit of our own captain, in my second year. Kept us in line the way you kept Bo...yer teammates in line, I’m sure.” Akaashi ignored the obvious blip in that sentence. 
> 
> “Ah, Kita-san? I’m flattered to be comparable to him in any way." Akaashi said, looking genuinely pleased. "I always admired the Inarizaki team and often said I’d be nervous to play against you back then. Tsum-Tsum san is still quite a force to be reckoned with -as are Suna-san and Aran-san.” Osamu felt a warm sense of pride at the mention of his old teammates -even his brother and that familiar nickname. 
> 
> “I have to say...I’m surprised you didn’t continue playing, Osamu.” _Ah, we’re past Myaa-sam at least,_ Osamu thought for a bit before answering “Could say the same thing 'bout ya. Goin' to Nationals every year, and all. Woulda at least thought you’d play on the collegiate level, Kaashi. As fer me, I knew early on that I wanted t’do different things in life. Volleyball woulda kept pushing those things aside.” 
> 
> Akaashi stared into the delicious bowl of katsudon in front of him -or what was left of it, rather. “Yeah…” he muttered, and then almost immediately perked up “All those years of playing were amazing. I’m happy they happened. But I had other things to pursue. I suppose when you’re around people who...are obviously so much more determined to keep playing, it makes it a bit easier to recognize you don’t quite feel that way yourself.”
> 
> Osamu couldn’t help but smile, relieved to finally be having this conversation with someone he genuinely felt had been in the same boat. “It’s funny, yknow? That former captain, Kita...he’s my go-to guy for rice! Best rice in all of Japan -in all the countries I’ve been to, even! He exports to a ton of ‘em, man's a genius! Still scares me a bit.” Akaashi peeked and saw a small, half-empty pack of Hyogo rice still on the kitchen counter. “Til now, the memories I made and people I met on the court...they’re part of me.” There was a pause and Osamu sounded almost too embarrassed to continue but he forced the rest out: “It sounds sappy, and stupid Tsumu always rolls his eyes when I try to go on about it, but…yer right, I’m happy those years happened. And still...I’m sure happy the years after ‘em are happenin' the way they are, too.”
> 
> Akaashi scooped every last bit of food clean from his bowl and gently replied “I’ve long come to accept that things don’t need to last forever to be worth cherishing. Even the most meaningful things can come to their irreproachable end.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!


	6. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Osamu has never fallen in love against all better judgement. Sometimes, looking at Keiji makes him second guess if he is too old to try. He remembers what he told his stupid brother, whenever the topic of Keiji was brought up: that he was being cautious, that it was casual, that he wasn’t going to get hurt. Osamu knows he meant all that. Osamu knows he still means it at this very moment. He also knows the feeling of being at the very edge of a cliff and having to decide if you’re willing to dive in, or need to walk away before a strong gust of wind makes that decision for you. “I’m startin’ to like you too good an amount to have you just be settlin’ for me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say that this chapter hurt to write (you'll know what I mean, after) and also I struggled quite a bit to describe Keiji's ongoing book and I'm wondering if I should just..actually write the book too HAHA oh no. I hope this chapter does all the characters justice. I'm sorry in advance (again, you'll know what I mean, after reading) Thank you for all the comments so far: both the encouragement to keep writing and the constructive criticism to write better! 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.

_“I have tried to keep_

_context from claiming you”_

-Keith Waldrop

_September 1, 2019 (5:13 PM)_

Keiji’s in the kitchen making tea. Osamu can hear the soft clang of the kettle on the stove pot, the gurgle of the water and then the quiet whistle from the escaping steam. He wonders if it’s strange to be having this conversation over tea. Maybe he should have stopped by a convenience store and bought a few beers. Perhaps something harder, even. In his mind, he goes down the list of liquor he could have swiped from the backroom at the restaurant. He could have brought the half-finished bottle of Black Label that Atsumu gave him for their last birthday, he thinks. Maybe even the unopened Suntory Roku Gin that Kita had sent as a congratulatory gift when the branch opened. He feels a crick in his neck and realizes he’s been staring down at the floor this whole time. In the middle of his mental inventory, Keiji walks in carrying a small wooden tray. Balancing on it is a medium-sized French press, two ceramic cups, a few packets of artificial sweeteners and a small saucer of honey. Osamu can smell the jasmine tea leaves settling to the bottom of the press. He takes a long, deep breath and comes to the conclusion that tea is perfect. 

If he wants to be unnecessarily cute and draw things out, he can talk about how irritating it is that Keiji looks so good in that soft, over sized sweater. He can make some sad, self-deprecating joke about how he’d skip the Splenda so the bitter tea could match his mood. But Osamu can never tease Keiji when he has that look on his face: eyebrows knitted, jaw clenched, pretty eyes so big and wide he could drown in them. As soon as Keiji sets the tray down on the coffee table between them, Osamu is pretty sure Keiji’s hands will start fidgeting. He reaches out across the table and takes Keiji’s hands in his, right when the wood touches the glass surface. Osamu looks at him and smiles, weakly. If he doesn’t say it now, he’ll lose all his conviction if Keiji keeps pulling faces like that. 

“I know we’ve been playin’ it safe, keepin’ things casual but I’ve gotta say...in case you haven’t noticed: I like ya, Keiji.” 

He squeezes Keiji’s hands affectionately, in a way that says ‘hold on, don’t react, I’m not done talking yet.’

Calmly, gently, but with certainty: this is how he’s managed to get to know Keiji. This is why he’s been welcomed into Keiji’s home time and time again. Osamu has never forced himself into Keiji’s life, but he’s always walked towards him decisively and waited for Keiji halfway. “It ain’t all dramatic. I don’t want it t’be. We’re not dumb reckless kids stumblin’ in love or anythin’ anymore. I just...” Osamu stops to laugh. He can’t remember ever being a dumb, reckless kid when it came to relationships, to be honest. He had always been pragmatic and detached to a fault. He supposes he has loved people, but never hopelessly or completely the way people wrote about in novels -the way his stupid brother waxed poetic over a certain ball of sunshine. Osamu has never fallen in love against all better judgement. Sometimes, looking at Keiji makes him second guess if he is too old to try. He remembers what he told said stupid brother, whenever the topic of Keiji was brought up: that he was being cautious, that it was casual, that he wasn’t going to get hurt. Osamu knows he meant all that. Osamu knows he still means it at this very moment. He also knows the feeling of being at the very edge of a cliff and having to decide if you are willing to dive in, or need to walk away before a strong gust of wind makes that decision for you. “Might be startin’ to like you too good an amount to have you just be settlin’ for me, is all.” 

He lets go of Keiji’s hands to carefully pour them both some tea. There is silence while he places one cup on a coaster in front of Keiji then another in front of himself. His fingertips tingle from the heat of the ceramic cups. He playfully reaches out to touch Keiji’s right cheek and lets him feel the warmth. Something in Keiji breaks upon contact, and he can’t look Osamu in the eye. “It’s alright, Keiji.” Osamu coos, soothingly. “C’mon, yer not allowed to blame yerself for this. I knew everythin' goin' in, Keiji, really!” 

Keiji is struggling to speak and Osamu suddenly can’t remember everything he had planned to say, before coming here. Forget the beer. What he should have brought with him were those index cards he wrote his important points on. “Well...almost everythin’, I guess” he laughs before becoming stiff and serious again: “Look, Keiji. I’m sorry. I...I kinda wish I had known -I mean, I didn’t know why you and Bokkun broke up.” There’s no anger or bitterness, not even at the mention of Bokuto’s name -which had become an unspoken taboo between them. “Not ‘til that interview we caught on the news, at least. I got Tsumu to fill in the blanks for me after, but...I had no idea.” 

“It wasn’t my story to tell.” Keiji manages to say, shakily. “Bokuto-san’s circumstances...and the way he is coping, now. I believe that he should decide who gets to find out about it.” And there it is: the absolutely perfect response that Osamu didn’t know he was looking for. He didn’t even know a truth that pure, could exist. Of course Keiji would respect Bokuto’s privacy above all things. Of course Keiji would think of Bokuto’s pain even while processing his own. And then, as if that ridiculously selfless explanation wasn’t enough, he goes on to say: “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Osamu...” 

Exasperated, Osamu sinks into the couch as he lets out a heavy exhale. Three thoughts are spinning around in his head. One: Akaashi Keiji is a person of unwavering devotion. Two: Akaashi Keiji’s said unwavering devotion had been promised to Bokuto Koutarou years ago. Three: Although he is not a dumb, reckless kid in love, perhaps he, Osamu Miya, would give almost anything to be Bokuto Koutarou at this very moment. 

These are things he’s known, in the back of his mind, for some time now. After all, putting aside all the other shallow reasons Keiji had piqued his interest, it was the way Keiji loved someone (like they were the center of the god damn universe) that drew Osamu in. He had never expected that sort of love to be flimsy, or easy to win over. He would have been much more disappointed, if it had turned out to be. This...this stings a little, but it’s quite satisfying to be proven right in a masochistic sort of way. “It’ll make it easier for me if ya shoot all my hopes down clean, yknow, Keiji?” he pleads. “I just need to hear it from ya. Some kinda final blow.” Osamu is laughing at himself on the inside, wondering if this is his way of ripping a band aid off clean or childishly picking at a fresh wound. Either way, it’s what he wants right now. 

He can sense Keiji’s unease even as he slowly stands up, walks to his writing desk and then sits beside Osamu with his notebook in hand. Keiji holds Osamu’s hand and speaks gently “I do like you as well, Osamu” Keiji mumbles. Osamu nods and gives him a self-assured “I know” before following it up with “I know ya do...but it ain’t enough right now, is it?” He watches Keiji take a deep breath. He can sense him gathering up the courage to finally admit the truth they both already know. “I wanted it to be, if that counts for anything.” Although this conversation is generally going exactly the way Osamu expected, Keiji’s answers are still full of surprises. Somehow, he doesn’t just rip the band aid off or pick at a wound. Osamu, with all his metaphorical scrapes and cuts, holds Keiji’s hand while he gently applies the stinging but soothing medicine. “It does, Keiji. Thank you.” 

Osamu recognizes this particular notebook. He looks up at Keiji, waiting for a go-signal saying that he has permission to look through it. Instead, Keiji opens it up on his lap for them both to read. “This is a story I’ve had in the back of my mind for years, now. I kept putting it off, the busier I got with my day job and well...everything else. It was never really a priority.” It’s Keiji’s turn to squeeze Osamu’s hand affectionately, now. “Before I say anything else...I want to say thank you, for pushing me to finally work on this. You have no idea what all your words of encouragement really meant to me...whether you were just saying those things to seduce me, or not.” He ends with a chuckle, and Osamu can’t help but laugh as well. 

Flipping the notebook open, he can see that each page is full of both text and scribbled drawings that are probably guides for the final illustrations. Osamu knows it’s a simple and straightforward children’s story...a fairytale of sorts. From the very first layouts, he learns that it’s about a boy who chances upon a star. This small star has fallen from the sky. Sometimes, he swears Keiji should have just become an astronomer with his odd fascination for heavenly bodies. The symbolism isn’t lost on him, especially when the next few paragraphs show the little boy helping the star figure out how to find his way back up into the sky. Small sketches continue alongside the text detailing the different tasks they need to accomplish, with each task holding a moral lesson for kids who will eventually read this story. Some tasks are simple, like cleaning up the mess made by the crash. Some are quite difficult, like teaching a reluctant baby crow how to flap its wings. Others are complicated, depending on the star’s disposition. One by one, they check the tasks off the list and on every page, Osamu can see that the star rises a little bit higher to the sky. “Even from these sketches, I can tell the crow'll have Tsukki’s sour face, Keiji, yer awful” Osamu laughs.

He turns to the next page, where there is the tiniest sketch of the small boy looking up at barely a dot of a star in the sky. 

_Reaching our goal brought our time together to an end._

_They are a star back up in the sky. I am a boy, on this beautiful earth._

_It was, while it lasted, a brilliant adventure._

Osamu stares at the page right beside it. It’s different from all the others, not only because it’s a mess of crossed-out lines with no illustrations whatsoever, but also because there’s one dark line down the middle dividing it into two columns. Keiji traces the line with a finger, and explains. “While writing it, these past few months...I was positive that the climax would be when the star finally got up so high again that he and the boy could no longer reach one another. Then the rest of the story would be about both the star and the boy happily continuing their lives, forever touched by the time they had together, but in completely different places that would never again intersect. In my mind...this, too, was a happy ending.” Osamu agrees that if written a certain way, it would definitely have just the right amount of bittersweet nostalgia to be hopeful with just a tinge of sadness. “But of course, I’ve also toyed with other scenarios in my head. Perhaps the boy finds a way to fly up to the star. Maybe the star grows big and strong enough to visit the boy without falling to the earth. Or maybe...maybe there’s a magical third dimension only the boy and the star can travel into and spend time with each other, still. Ridiculous scenarios. Unrealistic ones.” Keiji is rambling, laughing at himself and shrugging his shoulders. Osamu knows this means he is flustered and embarrassed. This also means he is trying to downplay the weight of his words. It doesn’t happen often. It’s very obvious whenever it does. “But still...the very premise of the story is ridiculous, anyway, isn’t it? What’s the harm in wanting a little more...ridiculousness, I suppose.” 

Osamu hums in approval “I’d believe it. I’d think the boy was probably a whole lot more special than some fancy star, but neither of em figured that out til the end. Huh. Or maybe I’m just not that fond of stars. Some things get too much dang attention, in my opinion” He draws small circles with his thumb, on Keiji’s hand. “It sounds good. I’m lookin' forward to it. It’ll be even more beautiful with the final art, too.” 

The sunset floods the room with warm light and dark shadows. Osamu hates how much he wants to kiss Keiji and pretend this whole conversation never happened but the passing time on the clock doesn’t lie. Within the next half hour or so, it’ll be dark. The stars will come out of hiding. Some things are as inevitable as night and day.

“In some other story line,” Osamu whispers as he leans in one last time “this plays out differently, Keiji.” With a nod, Keiji concedes and kisses him, softly and sweetly as ever. 

_In a parallel universe,_ _where ya write a different story, where Bokkun doesn’t keep tryin’ from across the city, where we don’t care about that interview, where a buncha other possibilities play out...in some other place and time, you end up perfectly happy and content with me. But in this one...there’s no keeping you and that stubborn star apart. It’s alright, Keiji. I’m grateful for the memories._

* * *

_September 1, 2019 (6:45 PM)_

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but my son is a huge fan of yours. May he please get a photo with you?” Bokuto looks up from the manga magazine he’s reading, in a small cafe overlooking Shibuya crossing. There is a kind-looking, middle-aged woman holding the hand of her little boy hiding behind her skirt. In true Bokuto fashion, he breaks out into a huge grin and motions for him to come closer. “Ah! Of course, of course! I’m flattered!” The little boy lets him know his name is Aka, as he approaches him for their photo. “Yo, Aka-chan!” Bokuto smiles gently and they both do his signature BOKUTO BEAM pose. Aka’s mother takes a seemingly endless number of photos from all possible angles, on her cellphone camera. When they finish, Aka notices the magazine on the table and sheepishly says he likes those manga stories, too. Bokuto is wildly excited by this, and they dive into a conversation about which parts of this issue they enjoyed the most. Bokuto is only about ⅔ of the way finished but he shows Aka the post-its he has placed on his favorite chapters. Aka looks at one note curiously and reads one out loud with a confused look on his face “Eh? ‘I wonder what lines you rephrased here’...huh?” Bokuto pats him on the head “A friend of mine works on this publication. I always put notes while I read it so I won’t forget to ask him about things next time I talk to him!” 

Aka and his mother thank Bokuto then leave him to get back to his reading. He checks the time on his phone. He has about twenty more minutes before Konoha and Washio get there -more than enough time to finish this issue and get to his favorite part. When he does finally flip to the last page where the credits for all the editors of this issue are listed down, he smiles to himself “Ah, I was right, he did edit that story in this one! As expected of Akaashi!” It’s a fun little game he’s been playing with himself, the past few months. He goes through every volume trying to guess which new stories Akaashi edited this time. Along with all the other questions he’s made note of on the pages, someday he’ll let Akaashi know just how many times he was able to correctly guess which stories he worked on, too. 

Just as he is about to put the magazine down, he spots Konoha and Washio walking towards his table. “Yo!” Konoha says, as he slides into the seat across him. “Sorry, we missed the train and had to wait a bit!”

Bokuto pulls out a small box from his bag and hands it to Washio “Belated happy birthday, Washiooo!” Surprised and embarrassed, he accepts the gift but stammers “You didn’t have to, Bo. Thank you. Don’t think this’ll make me go easy on you at our next game, though!” He ends with a laugh. Bokuto laughs along with him and chants “Open it, open it!” Washio relents and after ripping off a thin layer of wrapping paper, he takes a lovely owl-print handkerchief set out of the cardboard packaging.

“It is to dry your tears with after we -the MSBY Black Jackals, defeat you!” Bokuto exclaims, with the most serious expression he can muster.

Konoha is unable to breathe as he is wheezing with laughter at this point “That’s right! Your next match-up is in a few weeks, isn’t it?” “Yeah!” Bokuto replies “At Yoyogi Gymnasium, here in Tokyo! And it’ll be on the day before my birthday too, Kono-chan! You should watch! Bring the others!! Watch me spike a few past Washiii!” Washio affectionately elbows Bokuto as he takes the seat beside him. Bokuto excitedly goes on and on about how they should gather everyone from their senior year team up, to come watch the MSBY-EJP game. Both Konoha and Washio spot the magazine Bo’s left on the table, then exchange a quick look. “Yeah, I remember Yukie mentioning it recently. Apparently, the company Kaori works for has been running promotions for this tournament. Wouldn’t miss it! I’ll see who I can drag along with me.” he says, with a smirk. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!


	7. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akaashi's thoughts are interrupted by an arm pulling him in closer to the bunched-up group. “Say cheese!” he hears, as Kaori presses the button on the selfie stick holding up her phone. When she shows them the photo, she informs them that she’s got to post it on Instagram. According to her, they look adorable and not documenting this day would be sacrilegious. Akaashi chuckles at her dramatic choice of words, but nods in agreement with the rest.
> 
> “Former owls here to cheer for @bokuto_beam and @wsh.ttsk” 
> 
> What she doesn’t let the group know is that she sends a quick text to a certain beam weapon, making sure he sees the photo before putting his phone away for warm ups. “Consider it a birthday gift.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to the last chapter!! I'm hoping more and more of the ideas about love, growth and relationships I tried to cram into this, are being pieced together. I'd also like to say that I feel very strongly about showing all the characters love and not just hurting them needlessly -this is why I wrote the long OsaAka separation conversation and also why I am not just going to have Samu fade into nothingness after all that! 
> 
> While writing this chapter, I went on a John Mayer listening spree (he's still my go-to heartbreak playlist after all these years) and I'd like to share some songs that I feel would resonate with the characters here:
> 
> [I'm Gonna Find Another You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tNK4Twjj0Kk) for Osamu  
> [Still Feel Like Your Man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NyCst7We6Uw) for Akaashi  
> [Split Screen Sadness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=752mq9Na0ec) for Bokuto  
> [You're Gonna Live Forever In Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08Ndzf5-HxI) for OsaAka  
> [Edge of Desire (THIS PERFORMANCE SPECIFICALLY)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZ75pdGdK-g) for the last scene which is BokuAka
> 
> Thank you again to all those who have taken the time to read, give feedback or reach out about the story. 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.

_September 1, 2019 (10:24 PM)_

“Comin’ in!” Atsumu announces as he slides the wooden door to Onigiri Miya, open. He smirks at his brother, sitting on one of the stools at the bar. There are two small glasses and a familiar bottle of Black Label on the counter.

“You say anythin’ close to ‘I told ya so’ and yer outta here.” Osamu growls.

“Yeah, yeah. Geez. Grumpy Samu” is all Atsumu mumbles nonchalantly.

Before taking a seat, he counts the change from the cab driver and stuffs the handful of bills and coins into the pocket of his jeans. He’s pretty lucky that he had enough cash on him to get here as soon as he read his brother’s message. _Sa_ _mu’s pretty lucky that I had enough cash on me to get here as soon as he messaged me_ , is what he’s tempted to say out loud. Instead, he goes “I’m just here for some whiskey with my ever-so-cautious brother who definitely ain’t mopin’ over someone he in-fucking-sis-ted he wouldn’t fall in love with”

Sometimes sarcasm is as smooth as aged Scotch liquor, served neat.

Osamu has nothing to say to that. He finishes off the drink in his hand and pours himself another glass, instead.

“Easy there” Atsumu quips “Don’t wanna get drunk and wreck the place, Samu. Hard drinks always make ya puke. Onigiri Miya’ll stink the whole day, ya lightweight”

With a sigh, Osamu explains that he’ll be fine “Shop’ll be safe. We finished renovatin’ the space upstairs. It’s a small apartment I’ll be usin’ from now on when I visit.” Atsumu is totally stunned by his brother’s foresight, as this is the first he’s heard of this plan. He can’t help but wonder if Osamu did all that, thinking he’d be in Tokyo more often because of Akaashi.

As if on cue, his thoughts are addressed: “I’ll only be in Tokyo once a quarter from now on. Rest o’ the year, we’ll be rentin’ it out on airbnb t’make more income.” What was it that Osamu had said before? Right: just good business sense.

Atsumu blows a low, impressed whistle “Hate t’say it...and really, I really hate t’say it” Atsumu whines, emphasizing the second “really” a bit more than necessary. “But yer not half bad at this business shit, huh.”

Osamu blinks.

“Ah. Was that...a compliment?”

“Shut it.”

“Who are ya? What’d ya do to Tsumu? That you with a disguise, Sho-kun?” 

“Ya look like shit, Samu, I had to say somethin’ to get that pathetic look offa ya!! It pisses me off!” 

Suddenly, Osamu is laughing out loud, amused by how easily riled up his brother is as always. The tension breaks and Atsumu is glad, even if it is at his expense -and even if he definitely isn’t going to say that, out loud. 

“Stop bein’ stupid, Samu. With a face like ours...you’ll be fine.” he mutters, dismissively.

“Ah, are ya consolin’ me now? It’s kinda creepy, Tsumu”

“That’s the last yer gonna hear of it!! I swear to god, dumbass! Why’d I even come ‘ere!!”

Hidden under the countertop, Atsumu types out a quick message that he sends to Shoyo 

> Might be late for practice tomorrow. Cover for me. Family thing. 

* * *

_ September 21, 2019 (1:34 PM)  _

The stadium is buzzing, even if there is more than an hour before the 3PM match. Or perhaps Akaashi is merely hyper-aware of the electric energy of the small group of Fukurodani alumni he finds himself reunited with. Yukie and Kaori are chatting away with Onaga and Konoha -who had insisted on him coming along.

“C’mon ‘Kaashi, we haven’t seen you in ages and it’s almost my birthday!” was Konoha's final argument that had effectively guilted him into saying yes.

He couldn’t deny that he had been consciously avoiding the group lately. In his mind, they would always be Bokuto’s friends, first and foremost. Akaashi is not a fan of involving other people in private matters. Rather than cause any friction in the group, he had chosen to simply walk away and distance himself. 

Still, he can’t help but think that this warm, buzzing energy is one that he’s missed. In a life full of changing circumstances, Akaashi likes to take note of things that seem to remain constant and somehow frozen in time. Years and years later, he is still wholeheartedly grateful he had been a part of the Fukurodani team. 

His thoughts are interrupted by an arm pulling him in closer to the bunched-up group. “Say cheese!” he hears, as Kaori presses the button on the selfie stick holding up her phone.

When she shows them the photo, she informs them that she’s got to post it on Instagram. According to her, they look adorable and not documenting this day would be sacrilegious. Akaashi chuckles at her dramatic choice of words, but nods in agreement with the rest.

> Former owls here to cheer for @bokuto_beam and @wsh.ttsk

What she doesn’t let the group know is that she sends a quick text to a certain beam weapon, making sure he sees the photo before putting his phone away for warm ups.

“Consider it a birthday gift.” is the message accompanying the link to her post.

* * *

_ September 21, 2019 (4:21 PM)  _

Bokuto plays his best game of the year. He is pulling out all the stops. The Jackals end up winning in four sets with his beautiful line hit sealing the deal. The crowd is going wild. Screams of his name echo throughout the venue. They’re scattered cheers at first, but as soon as the voices somehow sync, it’s unnerving. It sends a chill down Akaashi’s spine.

He’s an editor, a writer: he deals with mountains of words for a living. He’d like to think that he is aware of the powers words can hold...isn’t he? Apparently that doesn’t make him immune to them.

Akaashi can feel his heart leaping out of his chest with every ominous repetition of this one word he himself has said countless times.

_Bokuto. Bokuto._

The chanting continues. He’s sure it’s turned into some demon-summoning incantation, somehow. His ears are ringing and all he can do is stare blankly, out into the court, where the Black Jackals have exploded into celebrations. Suddenly, Jackasuke -or, rather, the person inside Jackasuke: Jun, who he befriended while attending games religiously for years, looks up at their seats (damn Kaori’s Patron seat privileges) and tentatively raises a hand to wave hello.

The unthinkable happens and Bokuto stops his victory dance just in time to notice the mascot waving. Everything else slows down as Bokuto follows his gaze and spots Akaashi -there, in the middle of the rest of the Fukurodani alumni, swallowed by the crowd of people still cheering his name.

Akaashi politely excuses himself to go get some air before any of the others can notice. 

His head is swimming, all the memories are flooding back in and he thinks it’s ridiculous because it’s been months (so many months!) since he’s seen him, much less talked to him. He isn’t just drowning in ominous noise and memories -he is floundering, gracelessly.

He expected that he wouldn’t be completely unbothered, but it wasn’t supposed to feel like this! He thought he was doing better. He thought he was building his own life. 

He was writing his own god damn book! Oh but of fucking course that still had some pathetically obvious connection to the man he’s loved since he was an aimless teenager.

He was shacking up with a ridiculously beautiful man who cooked amazing meals, had the shoulder-hip ratio of a Greek god and wanted to be with him! Oh but of fucking course he drove him away saying he couldn’t return his feelings.

And for what reason? That one name filling the entire damn arena.

Of. Fucking. Course.

He wants to scream -he withholds. He wants to cry -he can’t. Akaashi Keiji accepts that he is sinking. He stops struggling to swim.

He settles for quiet isolation on an empty bench outside. Maybe people who see him sulking alone will simply assume the team he bet on, had lost. Maybe nobody will figure out the insane reason he is actually there, clutching at his chest and trying so hard not to let his feelings show. He stares at the palm of his hand and traces the lines with his eyes until he remembers to breathe properly. 

When he looks up a few minutes later, Yukie is standing in front of him, patiently waiting for him to notice her. She has with her a bag of onigiri. 

“You okay?” she asks, with a worried look on her face. “May I sit? I’ll let you have some if you let me” Akaashi accepts the food offered and lets her take a seat beside him. “I’m sorry, Yukie-san. I thought I could handle this better.” he mumbles. “No, Akaashi, we’re sorry!” she interrupts. “Don’t apologize! Geez... How could any of this have been easy for you to handle!” 

Yukie sounds almost on the verge of tears herself, but she recovers and attempts to lighten the mood. “Y’know Keiji, when we found out what happened...man, we let Bo have it.” She has a look on her face that reminds Akaashi of his mother whenever she had to be stern while disciplining him as a child. “The boys gave him a good scolding but I didn’t hold back one bit! I slapped him silly! Kaori got a few good ones in, too!”

Akaashi would have laughed out loud if he thought at all that she was joking. Yukie and Kaori were not above physically punishing Bokuto, after all. He let himself laugh a little, remembering how the two girls showed Bokuto a lot of tough love back in high school. 

“But we eased up on him after a while...saw him trying really hard to make up for what he did”

The serious expression on Akaashi’s face must have let her know he did, in fact, understand what she was saying. Nevertheless, to prove her point, Yukie pulls her phone out and quickly opens what appears to be a group chat between her, Kaori and Bokuto. She scrolls through it to show Akaashi a few of the messages.

> 02/04/19: Just finished my first session! She’s really nice! I think therapy was a good idea!!!!!
> 
> 03/02/19: Two months of no alcohol!!!!!!
> 
> 03/05/19: Good therapy session! Do you guys know where I can get a good journaling notebook?????
> 
> 04/15/19: Three months clean!!!!!!!! 
> 
> 05/04/19: Went to therapy again today!!!
> 
> 06/22/19: Didn’t drink at the party!!!!! How many months is it now???
> 
> 07/30/19: HEY HEY HEY isn’t this new manga story Akaashi’s working on really cool??? [IMG_4058]

Akaashi is shocked by a photo message of the project he had worked on back in July, and Yukie quickly closes her phone. “Oopsie! That one’s a bit of an overshare, sorry Keiji!” she laughs, embarrassed. “But it’s sweet, yknow?” And it is.

“Course we didn’t want to tell you while you were still seeing someone else. He seemed like a great guy, too! 'sides, this is stuff Bo should tell you himself. But I just thought...with that reaction of yours a while ago, maybe you could use a little bit of the truth.” 

Akaashi tells her he’s glad to know all this now. “And I’m grateful you were kind enough to be considerate of Osamu, despite not knowing him, Yukie-san.”

With all the affection of an older sister, Yukie kisses him on the cheek “Really. You’ve always been the most difficult to figure out. You just worry about everyone else too much. Bo, most of all.” It’s nothing new for the Fukurodani grads to point out just how much allowance Akaashi gives Bokuto, how he spoiled and coddled him even as high schoolers. But this admonishing feels very different. “It was freaking precious for you to carry all that, because you didn’t want to make things difficult for him. Did you think we didn’t notice? We did." She stops to sigh, softly. "Kei-kun...I hope you know we care about you both.”

Akaashi leans his head on Yukie’s shoulder for a bit and she hands him another rice ball from her plastic bag. “The others will probably go out for something to eat...but I’d like to grab some food and catch up -just the two of us, if you’re free.”

Akaashi feels his heartbeat calming down. “I’d like that, Yukie-san.”

The thundering noise buzzing in his head is fading into a comfortable hum. Thinking clearly, he grabs hold of the outstretched hand offering to pull him to the surface. 

* * *

_September 21, 2019 (11:58 PM)_

The streets are empty as Akaashi walks back to his apartment. His stomach is full of the curry he and Yukie enjoyed at a nearby shop. His head is full of stories she shared, about her clients at work and the gossip she has about the other Fukurodani grads. His heart -that feels pretty full, too. He’s lost in thoughts about how he still needs to work on letting people in, when suddenly his phone vibrates in his pocket.

> “Can I call you?”

He replies and on his screen a name he hasn’t read in a long time flashes as an incoming call. He picks up on the second ring. 

> “Akaashi.”
> 
> “Bokuto-san.”

Akaashi is less than twenty steps away from the gate of his apartment building. His pace slows down, but he doesn’t stop.

> “You were at the game.”
> 
> “I was. Congratulations, Bokuto-san, you played magnificently.”

_Fifteen steps away._ In the distance, a cat knocks over a trash can. The noise startles him for half a step.

> “Can I...”

_Ten meters._

> “Can I come see you?”

The streets are empty. Akaashi knows they are. He is five steps away from the gate of his apartment building. This is not a crowded stadium. There are no voices cheering, chanting. But his head is buzzing, his ears are ringing, and one word tumbles out of his mouth before he can catch it:

> “Sure.”

Almost immediately, Akaashi sees Bokuto stepping out from his hiding spot. They both put their phones down. “I...was going to leave if you said no, I swear.” Bokuto admits, hesitantly.

Akaashi looks at his face: his expression is shy (which is unlike him) and sincere (which is very like him). He knows that Bokuto would have definitely left with no complaints, if Akaashi had told him not to come see him, despite already being outside the apartment building. Akaashi glances at the clock on his phone before putting it back in his pocket.

“Happy birthday, Bokuto-san.” he says with a warm smile and only the slightest tremble in his voice. 

Bokuto looks like a child who’s just received a puppy and is about to cry out of sheer joy. “Still the first to greet me. Keeping the streak, ‘Kaashi.” he jokes.

They are five steps away from the gate to the apartment building they built a life in, together. Bokuto looks at Akaashi, in the middle of an empty street, the exact same way he (always) looked at him in the middle of a sold-out stadium crowd: like he was the only thing he could perceive at that very moment. There are no lights besides the dim street lamps every few meters. Still, it feels like Bokuto’s big, bright eyes are locked on to every detail of Akaashi with sharp focus.

“Hey, ‘Kaashi” he says, cutting through the silence. “Don’t forgive me, okay?” 

Akaashi isn’t sure if his ears just aren’t working properly today, after all. Perhaps the chanting at the stadium had actually caused a physical effect and not just a psychological one. “Heh?” is all he can reply.

“Don’t forgive me yet!” Bokuto answers, flustered and scrambling for words. “I mean! I’m going to beg you to forgive me, I will! But I told myself I’d only ask for your forgiveness when I deserved it! I swore to be sober a whole year before I even thought about asking you to forgive me! I still…” He counts on his fingers, mouthing the months: _October, November, December._ “I still have three months to go, ‘Kaashi! I shouldn’t even be talking to you argh I don’t deserve to be talking to you but I missed you so much and then you were at the game! Just the other week everyone said Myaa-sam was out of the picture and then today you...you were at the game, ‘Kaashi! And I missed you! I knew I missed you all this time but at the game, I just...I just realized how much I missed you!” More scrambling, but once more just for good measure: “God. ‘Kaashi. I miss you.”

The last few words are almost a whisper -almost, but not quite. It feels like Bokuto has mustered all his remaining strength to make sure those last few words could reach him.

There are a hundred ways to cut and edit that barrage of words. On impulse, Akaashi’s mind dissects their meaning bit by bit: matches intent to tone, overlays context, disregards style for substance. But Bokuto has always been a mess of words completely drowned out by actions that spoke for themselves. Once the keeper of an extensive catalogue of Bokuto Koutarou’s unusual traits, Akaashi knows best that the more you try to pin him down with precise words, the more he remains an intangible, larger-than-life conundrum. There is nothing to overthink. The words may be stumbling, but everything surrounding those bumbling words are, as they’ve always been: straightforward and sincere. There is a simple way to respond.

“I’ll be waiting for you to ask for my forgiveness in three months then, Bokuto-san.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!


	8. Resolutions II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Life is pretty complicated, huh, Kaashi”  
> “That it is, Bokuto-san.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was formerly titled “Palate Cleanser” and then I stumbled upon an urban dictionary definition of the term that didn’t sit well with me so I made the decision to change it. 
> 
> Finally done! This is my first completed fic. Thank you for giving it a go. To be honest, this endeavor was probably 80% me dissecting a bunch of my own experiences but writing them the way I wish things had happened or had been handled better -with a lot of added creative liberties, of course!! Still, it's nice that writing lets you explore the What Ifs.
> 
> The song I struggled to insert in the first scene is "The Heart is a Muscle" by Gang of Youths!
> 
> Thank you for letting me know what you thought of the story, while it was still a WIP. I hope this ending wraps things up in a satisfactory way. I appreciate all the feedback. I decided to get off of fandom Twitter, to focus on other things as I have very little self-control, but I do read through (and try to reply to) all the comments left here :) 
> 
> This goes without saying but I don't own any of these characters, they are beautiful products of Furudate sensei's amazing mind! I mean no disrespect with this or any other fan work where I write or draw how their stories could play out, in some alternate universe in my head.

_October 1, 2019 (2:14 PM)_

The lunch hour crowd has just about cleared out when Osamu lets himself relax a bit, behind the counter. There’s nobody left in the shop except a young college student obnoxiously watching indie rock music videos at full volume on his phone speakers. The next wave of customers will come at around 5:00PM.

He enjoys the predictable ebb and flow of the Hyogo branch which he can handle with ease. His staff does perfectly fine without his supervision, but he never wants to forget what it’s like to be doing the painstaking work either.

 _Besides_ , he thinks to himself, _nothing beats actually seein’ happy people enjoyin’ the food._

He hears someone come in and before he can greet them, he is surprised to see that it isn’t a random customer but Kita Shinsuke. Kita looks at him with a warm and serene expression “Figured this might be a good time to drop by with the documents ya sent over. Always a bit of time to breathe in the afternoon, isn’t there?” he asks.

Osamu nods, and invites Kita to take a seat. He clears a few booklets and folders to make space for the plans he had sent to Kita regarding the new branches he was going to be opening. He’d wanted to discuss how they could efficiently plan rice deliveries. Osamu was insistent that Kita’s rice remain a constant no matter where in the world he opened a store. 

Before they can start their discussion, Kita notices one booklet in particular “GMAT preparations, Osamu?” 

Osamu bites the inside of his mouth and curses himself for not putting the materials away faster. Still, a part of him is relieved to have it brought up...perhaps he had let the reviewer linger on the counter a little longer, subconsciously. If there was anyone he didn’t mind talking to about this, it would be Kita -but only if Kita brought it up first, as usual. Something about Kita makes it feel like you should wait for him to give you permission to open up.

It isn’t out of fear, though. He just always seems to know when it’s the perfect time to discuss a topic. Therefore, Kita’s prying always feels like a good omen of sorts. If that makes Kita seem like an all-knowing Oracle, well, Osamu can’t deny that it sounds pretty accurate.

“Yeah...been thinkin’ ‘bout gettin’ an MBA abroad. Business has been pretty good so I can handle it financially…staff’s been great at runnin’ things without me, too so it’ll be a good time soon” Osamu replies, sheepishly.

He swears he could have been blinded by Kita’s bright, proud smile “That sounds wonderful! Yer sure to learn a lot, from the new experience, just as much as the classes themselves!”

Osamu lets out an embarrassed laugh and turns away. He really still can’t look at Kita straight-on sometimes, especially not when he has that adoring expression on his face. Flustered, he rambles on “Feels kinda dumb, though. Get yer heart broken and run off to another country, what am I some kinda eat-pray-love -”

He stops, in the middle of his absent-minded monologue and realizes he has just admitted that he is, in fact, heartbroken. He has admitted that he is heartbroken and running off to another country to forget about his heartbreak. He has admitted this shameful fact to his business partner...to Kita-san. To Kita-san who is not only Kita-san but also his business partner.

Osamu knows it isn’t humanly possible but he fully believes he has turned to stone. He is suddenly very aware of the awkward silence between him and Kita. The YouTube concert his one customer is watching a few feet away, is the only sound in the store. 

_There will be no years of silence in the shadow of regret_ _  
__I won’t let it so betray me, though my soul got used to it_

He is unaware of how Kita is quietly smiling to himself, amused to know that Osamu -the more reserved and less expressive of the Miya duo, has finally allowed himself to experience heartbreak. After all, one can only experience that when one has dared to fall in love.

In the years they had known each other, Osamu had definitely broken a lot of hearts, but he never made his own heart vulnerable. Kita’s tempted to ask about it, but decides not to and focuses on the implied absurdity of going abroad, instead. 

_I will look at love as more than just an instrument of pain_ _  
__And will give myself completely to the moving and the strange_

“And so what if yer runnin’ away?” He asks, without mincing words. “If it’s towards somethin’ good...what’s wrong with usin’ a loss to move ya forward?”

With a hilariously unmistakable look of pure shock on his face, Osamu slowly turns towards Kita. The music continues to play as Kita tiptoes to pat his head, affectionately. “You’ve grown, Osamu.” he smiles. 

_Cause the heart, the heart, the heart  
_ _The heart is a muscle  
_ _And I wanna make it strong_

* * *

_ December 4, 2019 (12:14 PM)  _

“Akaashi-san, could you come into the conference room for a minute, please?” Anya, the office manager, coos. Akaashi looks up from his desk for a second but his attention quickly snaps back to his planner, as he is trying to finalize the week’s plans.

 _Drop by Kenma’s after work_ tomorrow.   
_Dinner with Fukurodani alumni_ the day after.   
_Meet up with college friends for lunch_ the day after that.

When he doesn’t respond, she pops into his cubicle to call him again “Akaashi-saaan!” 

He pretends to be annoyed but deep down, he has to admit that these small office traditions are quite endearing. He’s been here for years, but their manager has never missed anyone’s birthday. She always scheduled a “surprise” lunch either on the day itself or a day before. “Yes, yes, coming, coming” he mumbles, with a smile. 

As soon as he steps inside, a few confetti poppers go off and he finds most of his colleagues gathered around the large table, holding paper plates and utensils for the cake held up in front of him. “Happy birthday!!!” they cheer. There are hand-drawn birthday cards hung by strings stuck to the ceiling. As always, they are various caricatures of him by all the mangaka he is currently working with: definitely his favorite thing about office celebrations, every year.

Anya sneaks up beside him and hands him a small box wrapped in white, with a gold ribbon. “This one’s a special delivery, I’m guessing” she teases. “It was with the guard before I came in this morning.” There is only a small drawing of an owl on the corner of the package to identify the gift giver -but it’s more than enough of a hint. Akaashi opens the present and finds a beautiful, sleek fountain pen with a type-written note 

> “for all your future book-signing needs” 

He quickly puts the gift away before his officemates can tease him. It is, of course, a completely useless attempt.

All throughout his celebratory lunch, there are hoots of “Akaashi-kun, could you sign this for me please? Do you have a pen on you perhaps?” one after the other. 

* * *

_December 4, 2019 (11:49 PM)_

Unlike most people, Akaashi Keiji’s idea of ringing in another year of life does not involve a fancy dinner or night out in a bar. For the past few years, his preferred birthday routine has been this: a peaceful night at home, looking through and carefully storing the cards received throughout the day. Working with a manga department was not his first choice upon graduating, but it warmed his heart to always have stacks of personal art made for him by his talented colleagues. This is not something he might have been blessed with, in the post he had originally applied for. The collection of birthday greetings, get well soon cards and random thank you notes in his medium-sized tin box always made him feel incredibly lucky. Tonight, a small note and a doodled owl on carefully preserved wrapping paper, joins the stash. 

Akaashi holds the card up and stares at it for a good five minutes, before he gives in and grabs his cellphone. He tells himself: _It’s my birthday for goodness sake, I should be allowed to make an exception to his rule._

> 11:54 Thank you for the pen, Bokuto-san.
> 
> 11:54 I know we aren’t talking yet but I thought today might be okay. 

He is agitated when he is left on Read for a few minutes, cursing his decision -until he sees that at 11:58 Bokuto starts typing a reply.

> 11:59 I couldn’t sleep, trying to decide if it was okay. It bothered me the whole day!! Thank you for making an exception, for me!!
> 
> 12:00 Happy birthday, Akaashi!!!!!!!!

Akaashi smiles, feeling an intense warmth in his chest. He’s still surprised a few messages from Bokuto can make him feel this way. It seems illogical, and yet it just is what it is. In spite of everything that had happened recently, it was difficult to erase all their years spent together. How many times had they both been the very first to greet the other on their birthday? It had started way back when Akaashi was just a sophomore in high school, after all. That realization amazes him. 

It’s greedy, but he wants to ask for another exception.

> 12:02 May I call you, Bokuto-san?

Again, he is left on Read and again, he reprimands himself for even thinking of sending that message. _He probably has volleyball practice in the morning. He shouldn’t even be awake at this time. Plus he already said he wasn’t going to ask for forgiveness until next year, Keiji, why are you being so -_

> 12:05 Sure!!
> 
> 12:05 It’s your birthday, after all!!

"I'm sorry -" are the first words out of Akaashi’s mouth as soon as Bokuto picks up the call. But he quickly cuts the apology off.

> “Don’t be! I got to call on my birthday. I even got to see you. No chance you’re somewhere here in the Black Jackals dorm, is there, Akaashi?” 

He laughs, and Akaashi really hates how that laugh makes him feel like a love-struck teenager after all these years. 

> “No, just at home” 

He wonders, for a split second, if the use of the word “home” -their former home, should sting. But it doesn’t.

> “You should be out celebrating!” 

Bokuto teases him, as if he doesn't know the birthday routine. As if hadn’t sat right next to Akaashi at home, year after year, looking through birthday cards at midnight.

> “I had a small celebration at the office, but I wanted to go home and work on the book. I’m just looking through this year’s birthday cards now, though.” 

Bokuto gasps in excitement at the mention of the book. Even during their brief encounter back in September, it was the one thing he wanted to bring up, before leaving. Apparently, Kenma told Bokuto about reading the draft but they agreed Bokuto would just wait til he could read it himself -or ask Akaashi about it, whichever came first.

> “The book!!” 

Akaashi swears Bokuto Koutarou could radiate sunshine across phone lines, somehow. 

> “How’s that going??”
> 
> “It’s going well. I think I can approve the final layout by next week, I see no major revisions. The artist is someone I worked with extensively before, so they know my taste. We’ll go to print in about a month.” 

He is quite pleased with himself and this milestone he’s finally achieving. It feels surreal to finally talk about its concrete progress, out loud with someone other than his publishing team.

> “That’s amazing, Akaashi!! Kenma mentioned you’d be having a launch event for it? Ah! I’m sorry! I hope it’s okay that I know about that from him” 

Bokuto sounds flustered and Akaashi is amused by how careful Bokuto is, despite obviously wanting to know about how he is doing. Akaashi has felt the same way, in the past few months: curious and concerned, but trying so hard to exert self-control and hold up his end of their agreement. He’s happy it’s apparently a mutual feeling. 

> “Not at all, Bokuto-san. It makes me glad to know that you’ve asked about it. Yes, Kenma is planning to sponsor a small event for it next year. I may have forgiven you by then, so please come."

They both laugh, and Akaashi remembers how good it feels to make Bokuto laugh.

> "Also...I have to admit, I’ve been asking about you as well...from Yukie and the others. I hope that’s alright.”

Bokuto sounds like he may be hyperventilating at this point. 

> “Aaah 'Kaashi! Be careful of what you say!!” 

Akaashi is about to laugh again, but then Bokuto’s tone turns somber 

> “It’s getting really hard to wait. Talking to you...seeing you last September...it’s weird how these exceptions make it both really hard and really easy, to wait til I’ve kept my promise. Does that make sense, 'Kaashi?”

Akaashi gives himself permission to laugh, this time. 

> “It does. I’m sorry. I’ve heard about you from the news too of course. But it’s different...hearing things from you, directly. I didn’t get to tell you, last time. I’m proud of you for seeking help.” 

With that, Bokuto opens up about therapy and how it’s been helping him: how it’s become a maintenance routine to help deal with all the things going on.

Akaashi had always felt that Bokuto tried to carry the weight of so many problems, silently. He understood that it came with the burden of fame, a cheerful persona, and the pressure of being a symbol of strength. He knew that their relationship was a source of comfort to them both, in private, but that being gay was another thing for a superstar to be anxious about in public. At the very least, it’s nice to know that Bokuto has a little more support and a professional guiding him, now.

It’s also a bonus to hear that his therapist is an active member of the LGBT community as well. Bokuto raves about the books she’s apparently written on LGBT psychology. 

> “I’ve borrowed a few and I’ve been trying to read up. I don’t know when it’ll happen, but...I’m going to come out, eventually. I want to prepare for it.” 

Bokuto announces that decision, with full confidence and uncharacteristic seriousness. Akaashi’s chest feels the same strange way it had back when he heard Bokuto’s first interview about therapy. It’s that same, confusing mix of pride and melancholy.

> “Life is pretty complicated, huh, Kaashi”
> 
> “That it is, Bokuto-san.” 

Akaashi feels like their conversation is winding down, but he isn’t quite ready to let it end on that note. Instead he opens up a new topic, entirely. 

> “Do you want to hear about the story, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto can barely contain his excitement and says yes about ten times too many. He says he’ll still go to the launch and get a copy of course, but he’s just so excited to find out how it goes already. Akaashi indulges him and tells him all about the plot, even letting him know that at some point he’d gotten stuck on which ending to pursue.

> “Whew! Lots of those scenarios sound good, 'Kaashi. Bet you could have made a great story out of any of them. And I'm sure you did really well with the one you chose!”
> 
> “I hope I did.”

Bokuto hums, thoughtfully. 

> “So what happens, Kaashi? To the boy and the star?”
> 
> “They meet halfway.” 

Akaashi just knows they're both smiling, on the other end of the line.

> “That sounds about right, Kaashi.”
> 
> “Yes. I think it does.”

There are 26 days left until the New Year. The countdown is excruciatingly unbearable and yet...120% bearable. 

* * *

The book launch happens on a pleasantly cold afternoon, in a little book shop in Shibuya. It’s an intimate but well-organized event. It's mostly people from the publishing industry, of course, but Bokuto can also recognize Akaashi’s family members, a few of the college friends he’d met before, and some Fukurodani grads as well. There is a storyteller reading the book out loud to a group of children, and a line of adults asking for Akaashi’s signature. Bokuto is pretty pleased to see a familiar fountain pen being used. 

He decides to stay away from the main crowd and watch proudly from a distance. This is Akaashi’s day, after all, and he wants all the attention on the published author -not some pro athlete who just happens to be an invited guest. However, his flawless cap-and-glasses disguise doesn’t seem to fool a little 9-year-old who he recognizes as one of Akaashi’s nieces. “Kou-kun!!” she exclaims when she walks up to him. Bokuto smiles but presses a finger to his lips, asking her to keep it a secret that he’s there. “It’s a surprise, Aya-chan!” he whispers. She giggles and quietly scurries back to the group of children. 

Right away, Bokuto finds himself staring at Akaashi again. He is animatedly laughing with his publisher, illustrator, and Kenma -who is of course a VIP guest here. Akaashi looks so sure of himself and so happy. Bokuto sighs, he didn’t think he could get any sappier about the man he’d loved for almost a decade, and yet -

“Yer practically droolin’ yknow” 

Bokuto turns and sees Osamu behind him and smiles warmly. “Myaa-sam, you came!” The greeting surprises Osamu and his cheeks turn a bit pink. “Yeah, well...Keiji sent me an invitation and I had no reason t’miss it…” Bokuto nods, excitedly “You know he chose the guests carefully, Myaa-sam! You’re one of the few invitees, and it’s important that you’re here!!” Osamu can’t look directly at Bokuto, but he mumbles: “I’m sure he was just being nice, as you are, Bokkun...” Sensing that Osamu is about to apologise for something he doesn’t need to, Bokuto quickly pulls out his copy of the book and opens it to the very first page.

“Nuh-uh! See. Your name’s here, Myaa-sam. We’re in alphabetical order, right after his family and right before his publishing team.”

And there it is, in the middle of the Acknowledgements page: 

_To Kenma, Koutarou and Osamu who have made this book possible._

“Besides his team, we’re the only ones who got to read bits of it before today, after all.” Bokuto explains, proudly. Osamu is full-on blushing, now. “Ah, he just has to go and do stuff like that all the time...sheesh” He elbows Bokuto in the rib, gently “If ya mess up again, I’ll snatch ‘im back up for real, Bokkun.” Bokuto laughs, then nods, with a serious expression on his face. “I know it could have just as easily been you, Myaa-sam. I’ll be careful.”

With impeccable timing, Akaashi runs up to them both “How long have you two been hiding back here? We’re just about done. Thank you for coming all this way, Osamu! I kept this for you. ” He says, as he hands Osamu a copy of the book with his name “Osamu Miya” on a sticker attached to the plastic covering it.

Osamu smiles and accepts the token, but can’t help but say what’s on his mind “This is...a pretty weird situation, y'know”

They all laugh in agreement.

With the tension broken, Osamu tells them he’ll be opening a new branch before he leaves for his MBA in the fall.

“So the both of ya let me know if yer ever in Osaka...or just Keiji’s fine too” he teases one last time.

* * *

After a few more speeches and a lot of congratulations, the guests slowly leave one by one. As soon as the last person from the publishing company leaves, Akaashi finally slumps down into a chair and lets out a tired but satisfied sigh. It all feels surreal, until now.

Bokuto stays and helps him pack up the last few signed copies that Akaashi will need at the next event. While lifting one of the boxes up, he playfully asks “So. Can I buy you dinner, Mr. Published Author?”

Not missing a beat, Akaashi replies “Can I buy you a drink, Mr. Superstar Athlete?”

The teasing has no hurtful malice whatsoever. He knows it’s perfectly safe to joke about those things, now. Bokuto is doing just fine.

“Maaan I haven’t let someone buy me one in aaages! Let’s see! You can buy me...a chocolate milkshake, Keiji!” 

They slowly walk to the car, both carrying boxes and luggage. It’s half past 5PM and Akaashi can’t help but smirk at the poetic irony. He stops for a while, to take everything in: to relish in how good this moment is. He knows that not all days are going to be like this. Some days, they’ll doubt their decisions. Most days, they’ll just have to do the best they can. He can make endless lists of things that could go wrong -of things that could go wrong _again_ , but still, he thinks: today’s sunset is beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this little story. To those who were patient even as I updated it on and off in the past month, especially! I know it isn't a perfectly-crafted story and it's always a touchy subject to have plots where beloved characters make mistakes, hurt one another or get hurt, but at the core of this I hope I can share one message to anyone who can relate to parts of this story:
> 
> **Grow through what you go through :)**
> 
> Shout out to the two OsaAka fics that first opened my eyes to the ship: [Hunger by iphido](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24384802) and [Onigiri for the Broken Hearted by novocaine_sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22941589/chapters/54838039) which are probably the foundations of the OsaAka nation. If you end up enjoying the OsaAka dynamic, make sure to read their fics!


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